Enchantment
by Aquaberry Salamander
Summary: Regency Era AU. Prompt: Lord Weasley introduces himself to Miss Granger, while his sister Lady Weasley eyes a potential suitor across the ballroom. Random pairings, some slightly OOC behaviour, and rated M for naughty situations in later chapters.
1. Hermione Granger Prepares For A Party

Written in response to a prompt by lady snark: _Lord Weasley introduces himself to Miss Granger, while his sister Lady Weasley eyes a potential suitor across the ballroom._ (There is some wonderful art attached to the prompt: pragmatique. tumblr. com post/3176809741/ regency-era-request-ron-hermione-lord-weasley)

Genre/Tags: AU, Regency Era, Drama/Romance, Romione

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**Chapter 1: Hermione Granger Prepares for a Party**

_**Bath Floo Network Station, Somerset, April 1813**_

Hermione Granger anxiously adjusted her dress for what seemed to be the fiftieth time that afternoon. The dress was far more costly than any she was accustomed to wearing on previous occasions, a periwinkle silk ball gown with a nipped-in empire waist and a long, straight skirt, beginning below the bust, that draped softly about her ankles. Her brown hair was coiled softly atop her head, its riotous russet curls tamed into a semblance of elegance. She wore no ostentatious jewellery but the cluster of crimson rose buds that her dear friend Ginny Weasley had insisted she wear, which were artfully woven into her hair. Her make-up was quite subtle and understated, with only the faintest blush on her cheeks and rose-coloured tint to her lips.

The Lovegood's Sun Ball was to open the magical world's Season, the first such societal festivities that Hermione had participated in since her rather low-key debut in muggle London in August of last year. Hermione, ever practical and focused upon her professional future, had not wanted to participate in the coming-of-age ritual, and longed for the simplicity and logic of her books, studies, and internship. Working under a highly respected young and upcoming lawyer, Mr Cedric Diggory, her role in the past six months had been a rewarding and educational one that she eagerly anticipated progressing beyond her current research and clerical tasks. However, the Grangers had been most insistent, stating that as she had reached twenty-one years of age it was past time for her to make a formal entrance to society and seek a husband.

Upon hearing that she was officially out at long last, Ginny had firmly insisted that she join the Weasley family in attending the Lovegood's soiree that would open the Season for the magical community. Lovegood, Hermione had heard, was a noted eccentric, who was famed for his excellent parties – which were mainly the province of the patient and gracious Mrs Lovegood. Strangely, the ball was to be held at their Somerset estate, in contrast to the usual Season events, which were the province of the city.

Hermione had travelled via the Floo network to the Bath station, and then spied the carriages – discreetly enchanted so as to appear perfectly ordinary by Muggle standards once leaving the station - that had been prepared by the Lovegood family to transport their guests out to their estate. Ginny had told her that she would meet her at the Bath station. The evening air was cooling rather quickly, so Hermione withdrew her hawthorn wand from her matching, periwinkle-blue bag of holding, and cast a quick warming charm. She sighed with pleasure as the warm, soothing magic flowed over her, blocking the night's chill.

The Lovegood's carriages were fabulously rococo in design, pulled by massive Abraxan steeds with tawny coats and pale, blonde manes. The winged horses - quite intelligent creatures, Hermione recalled from a previous magical creatures study - must have been magically directed to travel to the estate, as there were no drivers. Ginny must be running slightly late, Hermione thought, not spying any other travelers at the station. Ginny's delay gave her ample opportunity to inspect the carriage. The exterior was painted a deep midnight blue, with gilt accents on the swirling designs adorning the carriage sides.

The carriage door opened of its own accord, wooden steps forming a pathway to enter the carriage. The steed calmly regarded her with intelligent, large, liquid brown eyes, seeming to hint that she should enter. Hermione smiled and shook her head slightly, refusing to enter until Ginny appeared.

As though the horse had summoned her, a rush of warm air and green fire from the fireplace announced the arrival of the Lady Ginevra Weasley. Hermione regarded her friend warmly. Ginny was dressed in a dark rose-coloured silk gown, ostensibly quite similar to Hermione's own, with her vibrantly red hair drawn into an elegant knot at the base of her neck. She had gone for a slightly more dramatic appearance, with her warm brown eyes lined in a dark, shadowy hue and her dark russet lashes dusted with kohl. She simply sparkled, and bore a faint scent of lavender and citrus flowers.

"Hermione!" Ginny greeted her happily. "How do you fare this evening? My apologies for being so late, however I was unfortunately delayed by my foolish brothers. I swear, if it wasn't for Mother and I, they would scarcely remember to place their shoes on the proper foot at times."

"There is no need to apologise, for I only just arrived myself," Hermione replied. The station's fireplace did not flare again, indicating that Ginny had come to the station unattended. "Are your brothers not accompanying you?" she queried.

"I am afraid not, Ron has already departed with Har- er, Lord Potter, and Charles will be departing with Fred and Angelina. Percy _was_ to escort you and I, however he was detained at work due to a last minute amendment to some trade agreement or another. To be candid, much of his ramblings about work sound the same at times."

Hermione smiled. "Very well, come, let us be on our way." The two ladies climbed the wooden steps and entered the carriage. The social mores of the wizarding world never failed to astonish her - her own parents would have been scandalised at the notion of two unmarried ladies of good family attending a public event without an escort for the sake of propriety. The freedoms afforded to women in wizarding England were truly a progressive notion that the muggle world could benefit from.

The interior of the carriage contained two plush bench seats, covered in black jacquard fabric, with garlands of orchids in riotous bloom seemingly growing from the roof in the centre of the small space. The flowers were luminous, casting a soft, rather romantic glow upon the carriage's interior. Upon closer inspection, Hermione noted small, live, faeries capering amongst the bluebell and ivory coloured blossoms.

She settled on the rearmost bench, watching the faeries momentarily, and noticed a circular series of carvings surrounding the floral lighting. Ginny seated herself opposite, and at once, the door closed. With a whicker, the Abraxan began to pull the carriage onward to the Lovegood's.

After cataloguing the remarkably detailed carvings – the unhappy story of the water nymph Melusine, if Hermione was not mistaken – on the carriage's interior roof, she opened one of the carriage windows to view the countryside whilst Ginny finalised her toilette. Deep green forest seemingly designed to be populated with fanciful historical figures such as Robin Hood or the Arthurian knights of old rolled by at a steady pace. The chill evening air was creeping in rapidly however, and she closed off the world outdoors.

"What must I anticipate this evening?" Hermione enquired. "I have heard that the Lovegoods are rather eccentric."

Ginny laughed. "I daresay you have. The Lovegoods are an old family, quite popular in the publishing world, and famed for their exploits abroad. Lord and Lady Lovegood themselves undertook an expedition to the Orient some years ago. I came to know their daughter, Luna – you would not have met her previously, as she attended Hogwarts – as our families socialised growing up. She is a lovely person, whom I am quite sure you will like."

"I would be glad to make the acquaintance of such explorers! Indeed, as you know, I would dearly love the opportunity to learn more of what lies in the world beyond our borders. However, I must confess, outside of school I have not attended many wizarding society events. I hope I do not commit any social _faux pas_."

"You have nothing to worry about, I assure you. Simply act as you would during one of the balls at Beauxbatons, and everyone will find you perfectly charming_._"

Ginny's words of reassurance soothed Hermione's nerves. As the carriage neared its destination, she reflected on her reasons for attending this party. Her curiosity had been piqued at the opportunity to meet Ginny's large and colourful family. Attending Beauxbatons School of Magic with Ginny, the frequent missives and tales from Ginny's had depicted a jovial and gregarious home life, far away from their mannered and impossibly French boarding school. Ginny, a year younger, had attended the academy in the year below Hermione. They had become acquainted when Hermione was assigned to be her mentor and guide during the younger girl's first year. A firm friendship had formed that had lasted through their seven years of schooling, to graduation and beyond. She would be glad to meet some members of the Weasley family at last and, of course, Ginny's fiancé, the rather famous Mr Harry Potter, a hero of the wizarding world and heir to the Potter fortune and title to boot. Even at Beauxbatons they had heard tell of his exploits. Ginny had nursed an ardent admiration for him throughout their school years, with Potter a frequent visitor to Burrow Manor. It struck Hermione as decidedly peculiar that she had been so silent on the subject of their engagement.

"I am quite excited to be meeting your family at last. And your fiancé! I cannot believe that you have been betrothed these last several months and failed to tell me."

"I am sorry, it was just… quite sudden. I confess, I am still coming to terms with it myself."

"I would have thought you would be overjoyed at such an arrangement, given the passion you cherished for Lord Potter back in our school days."

Ginny's mouth twisted slightly. "That was then… Harry is handsome, kind, and a dear friend of my elder brother Ronald. However, that was a young girl's infatuation. I am most anxious at the prospect of marrying someone I scarcely know. How can I love a stranger?"

Hermione nodded, thankful that her Muggle parents were progressive enough to believe that their only daughter should marry for love rather than societal connections. Whilst the wizarding world may have been more progressive in some manners, it appeared that arranged marriages in the peerage was regrettably one custom that could be found in all worlds. "Perhaps you could discuss your concerns with your parents?"

"I have, at length, to no avail." Ginny clasped her hands in her lap, and laced her fingers tightly together. "They wish me to marry a stable, secure man, and believe that Harry is that man."

"Do you think, perhaps, that you could come to care for Lord Potter in time?" Hermione asked gently. "I recall how you used to speak of the fun and marvellous times you had over the holidays."

"That was merely an infatuation," Ginny replied with a toss of her head. "It should be my own choice! My own family are treating me as though I am no more than a mare for sale at the market," she muttered, clearly angry.

"That is outrageous! They cannot marry you against your will!"

"They unfortunately can. You understand why I have been less than enthused about sharing this news. I will perhaps learn to love Harry. He shares my trepidation, I am sure, but he has been nothing but a gentleman in our meetings." Ginny sighed. "At least I can enjoy this Season as a free woman."

Hermione leaned forward, laying her hand on Ginny's in a gesture of support. "You shall. And I am confident, we can find a way out of this. I will consult with my colleagues at the Council."

"Unbeknown to me, this arrangement has been in place since my childhood. You see, they signed a betrothal contract with the Potters prior to Harry's enrolment with Hogwarts. Neither they nor the Potters wish to break it. I am somewhat at a loss as to how to proceed without provoking my mother's temper more than I already have."

"I will consult with Mr Diggory," Hermione rejoined firmly. There must be a way."

Ginny simply nodded.

At last the pace of the carriage slowed, coming to a halt. Troubled by Ginny's revelation, Hermione hastily rearranged her features into an appropriately polite expression. The carriage door opened to reveal a middle-aged gentleman with dishevelled, shoulder length blonde hair, wearing a shockingly yellow great coat, who bowed before her, a golden chain with a curious symbol dangling forth as he did so.

"Welcome, Lady Weasley and Miss Granger, to the Sun Ball. I am Xenophilius Lovegood, and I would be delighted to escort you inside."

"Thank you sir, for your invitation," Hermione replied. "I am certain this will be a splendid evening."

Ginny nodded, and added, "Good evening again, Mr Lovegood. My parents wish to pass on their apologies for their inability to attend this evening. They are visiting my eldest brother in Egypt, otherwise they would indeed be present. My other brothers shall be in attendance shortly."

"Splendid! Lord and Lady Weasley shall have a fascinating time in Egypt. The sun is at its most auspicious in the desert! Please, follow me, and I shall take you through to Luna."

As they entered the mansion, Lord Lovegood peppered his conversation with snippets of information regarding fantastical and frankly, in Hermione's estimation, absurd creatures and plants. Whilst there was a growing interest and scientific field developing in the cryptozoology profession, she could simply not accept the idea of 'nargles' fluttering about everyone's heads. And the crumple-horned snorkack that Lord Lovegood spoke so passionately of was clearly an erumpent!

Ginny, having shook off the dark clouds of her earlier mood, smiled slyly at Hermione, noting her friend bristling with the urge to correct their host's extravagant claims. However, their training at Beauxbaton's had instilled both ladies with a sense of public decorum and conduct. Still, Ginny had no doubt that if an opportunity presented itself later in the ball, Hermione would attempt to debunk the existence of such nonsensical creatures with relish.

It was with a sigh of relief that Hermione and Ginny were presented to Lady Pandora Lovegood, and their daughter Luna. Luna and Ginny exclaimed greetings upon seeing each other. The two hastily drew Hermione aside.

"It is a pleasure to meet you," Luna stated lightly, her own dress a rather elegant confection of palest yellow tulle and velvet. "Please, have some champagne." Hermione accepted a flute from one of the house-elves winding through the crowd, trays borne aloft. The sparkling drink's bubbles tickled lightly at her nose. The bubbly vintage was excellent, crisp and refreshing. _Perhaps this will be a pleasant evening after all_, Hermione thought. _Let the ball begin!_

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**Author's Notes**

Thanks for reading! :) This is my first Harry Potter themed fanfic, and I would greatly appreciate constructive criticism and feedback.

**Bath, Somerset:** The Somerset region in the United Kingdom is a very old region, with the town of Bath in particular dating back to Roman times. It is a beautiful area with marvellous old-world architecture, and is listed as a World Heritage Site. Before, during, and after the Regency Era, it was something of a 'party town', popular with Londoners escaping the inner city.

**Lovegoods:** In J.K. Rowling's recent Christmas releases on Pottermore, she confirmed that Luna's mother's first name is Pandora.

**Melusine:** The myth of the Melusine is a part of European medieval folklore, of a mermaid or water nymph who married a land-dweller. I would assume that it would be a subject taught to Beauxbatons students as a part of European magical creature lore.


	2. Meetings

**Chapter 2: Meetings**

Thanks for reading, and many thanks to my anonymous reviewer! Your comments are greatly appreciated. :)

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_**Lovegood Estate, Sun Ballroom, Somerset, November 1813**_

Lord Ronald Bilius Weasley stood idly against a wall, half concealed by a potted palm, in the Lovegood's rather ostentatious ballroom. His purpose in attempting to conceal his great height and shock of red hair behind the stand of green plants was, he thought ruefully, not the most gentlemanly of ones. He lurked out of sight in an effort to ward off his rather over-enthusiastic dance partner and would-be paramour, the lovely Miss Lavender Brown. Thus far, he had successfully avoided dancing with Miss Lavender this evening, in spite of her increasingly strident requests, by offering some hasty greetings to Lord and Lady Lovegood and Miss Luna, then spying a decent place for hiding. It had worked quite well, until he was startled by a not-so-subtle punch to his shoulder. Spinning around, he saw his best friend, Harry Potter, surveying him with a knowing grin and raised eyebrows.

"You can't hide here forever, mate," Harry told him. "She will discover you before too long."

"Merlin, Harry, don't draw attention to me!" Ron hissed in an urgent whisper. Harry hurriedly ducked behind the palm fronds to join his friend.

The two made an amusing, but handsome, tableaux. Ron wore a deep maroon coloured waistcoat over a pressed white shirt and matching cravat, with old-fashioned dark breeches tucked into his highly polished boots. Harry was dressed in a slightly more modern ensemble in the latest Muggle fashion from London, wearing a forest green great coat, over an ivory-coloured shirt and dark brown, impeccably tailored trousers, with matching silk cravat tied intricately.

Harry regarded his friend, green eyes glinting with merriment. "Maybe I can join you here for a while? We can dodge our respective ladies together. However, you are going to have to give Miss Lavender a dance at some point this evening, I fear."

Ron groaned inwardly. Lavender was an attractive young witch, and she was not preoccupied with status. As the sixth son of a noble pureblood family (not that his family gave credence to such rot) whose fortune had dwindled over the years, he was quite aware thanks to his mother's frequent lectures that he was not a catch for any young witch of good family. This mattered not a jot to Lavender, who had chased Ron rather brazenly throughout their years at Hogwarts, where she too had been a member of Gryffindor house. Ron's mother and father had strongly encouraged the match, fearing that he would take the same path as his brother Charles, who had rejected marriage in favour of a bachelor lifestyle, disappearing into the wilds of Romania chasing dragons.

Lavender did not interest him, though, and he feared he did not truly interest her, either. Lavender, Ron suspected, saw him merely as a challenge. He and Harry had been the only males in their year in Gryffindor House to not fall before her charms. Harry had been distracted by his infatuation with Miss Cho Chang, of Ravenclaw House, but Ron had had no such pretext for resisting her advances. This had caused her momentary intrigue to flare into a lasting interest, undiminished in the years since they had departed from Hogwarts.

It _was_ rather ungallant of him to lurk behind the shrubbery, he supposed.

"I'm a bit worried about Mother and Father," he confessed to Harry in a low, troubled tone. "Mother in particular is watching for any signs that Lavender and I are growing fond of one another. They've been hinting that if I don't formally begin courting Lavender, they'll take steps for me, the way they did with –" he abruptly cut himself off.

"It's all right, Ron," Harry replied with a heavy sigh. "The way they did with Ginny and I. She is still… dissatisfied with our engagement, I fear."

"Ginny has never liked being locked into a cage. Mum did wrong by her, and she needs to realise it. She has always liked you, though. Give her time, and she will come around."

Harry made a noncommittal noise, his expression carefully neutral. "Perhaps. Shall we go and greet our ladies?"

_Great Gryffindor's ghost, together we've hunted some of the darkest creatures known to wizard kind, _Ron thought._ It's rather shameful to be this alarmed by a dance. _

"…Let us go," he replied at last, summoning his courage. Ron stepped out from behind the palms, straightening his cravat whilst Harry attempted to tame his black hair into a semblance of tidiness. It did not take long surveying the room to spy Lavender's tall, pale blonde figure, similarly scanning the room. At last she locked eyes with Ron, and smiled. She was standing with Ron's sister, Ginevra, and a witch whose face Ron could not see. Ginny and the witch were engrossed in a rather peculiar tapestry strung across the wall. It depicted one of the strangest creatures Ron had ever set eyes upon – a monstrous hairy five-legged beast, with reddish brown fur and each leg terminating in a clubbed foot. The two ladies seemed to be rather intently discussing the snarling creature, whilst Lavender waited for them to approach.

Nodding to Harry, the two made their way across the room to the ladies. Harry bowed low over Ginny's hand, lifting it to his lips for a chaste kiss. "My lady, how fare you this evening?" he greeted her.

Ginny favoured him with a brittle smile that did not reach her eyes. "I am fine, Mr Potter." _Once, _Ron thought,_ that attention from Harry would have almost made her faint for excitement. _

As Harry and Ginny exchanged greetings, Ron gave a half-bow to Lavender. "Miss Brown, my apologies. Please forgive me for being indisposed during the dance."

Lavender smiled mysteriously. It was a smile that said she knew he was not one bit sorry for dashing off before their cotillion. "I am well, my lord. Perhaps we can partake in the next waltz?"

Ginny interjected, sparing Ron from having to respond to Lavender's rather brazen request. "Oh, Hermione!" She tapped the brown-haired witch on the shoulder, startling her away from the tapestry she had been so intently studying. "Please forgive me, I been rather rude… may I introduce Mr Harry Potter and my brother Ronald Weasley? Mr Potter, Ron, this is Miss Hermione Granger."

Harry was confidently offering a cordial greeting, but Ron found himself momentarily dumbfounded as he saw her face. His first impression was that Miss Hermione Granger was bloody _beautiful!_ Shining, copper-brown hair, pale, flawless skin, full, rose-coloured lips, deep chocolate brown eyes… A slender body with tempting cleavage pushed into prominence by that light blue gown… She was not a traditional beauty in the manner of someone like Lavender, with her golden blonde hair and pale blue eyes, she was striking in a wholly different manner. An intriguing one. She bore a faint scent of flowers – roses – that must have come from the blossoms twined within her dark brown curls.

She coloured slightly under his intense regard, but murmured an appropriately polite greeting that Ron completely failed to catch.

"Pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Granger," he responded at last with a polite half-bow. "Are you a former Hogwarts student?" he queried, wondering if she perhaps had attended after he.

"I attended Beauxbatons Academy with your sister, sir," Hermione replied. "However, my postgraduate study was undertaken with Professor Binns, so I am somewhat familiar with Hogwarts. It is a remarkable educational institution."

"Professor Binns?" Harry enquired. "You must have a strong dedication to either wizarding history and legislature, madam," he added with a smile.

"Indeed," Hermione replied, returning his smile with one of her own. "Professor Binns is one of the greatest - er, living, so to speak - experts in the field of legal history in Europe. It was a privilege to study under him, and I would paramount enjoy the opportunity to pursue more substantive employment in that field."

_Sharpest legal minds in Europe… her mind must be pretty bloody sharp too,_ Ron thought, remembering his and Harry's time studying under Binns at Hogwarts. Professor Cuthbert Binns had achieved the dubious honour of having an entire class of Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs fall asleep during one of his infamous lectures on the International Warlock's Convention of 1289 due to sheer boredom. He knew his history – no question about that – but Ron had grown to dread his classes with the old ghostly teacher even more than his and Harry's lessons with the severe Potions Master, Professor Severus Snape. It had only been due to his fierce desire to entire the forthcoming Auror program being implemented by the Wizarding Council that had forced Ron to undertake the NEWT level History of Magic qualification.

Lavender at this point was growing rather indignant at Ron's evident fascination with the brown-haired witch. She gently but firmly forced Ron's attention back to her, and led him to the dance floor. His eyes remained on the enigmatic, scholarly young witch chatting so animatedly with his sister and Harry, long after he and Lavender had entered the dance.

* * *

"That is Ronald?" Hermione rounded on Ginny. "He is… rather different from your descriptions."

"You truly think so?" Ginny smirked at Hermione's flushed cheeks.

Harry returned, bearing a small silver tray of delicately arranged sweet treats and crystal glasses filled with a refreshing punch smelling of oranges and almonds._ Ever the gentleman_, Ginny thought. If only she could bring herself to feel for Harry what she felt for… him.

Blaise Zabini stood across at the opposite side of the room, watchful and unsmiling. Oh, Ginny knew that many thought Blaise sombre and cold, a Slytherin to the very core. Ginny herself had thought as much based upon Ron's rather blunt descriptions of both the man and the house during his years at Hogwarts, a perception only reinforced through their brief but frequent meetings at wizarding social events following her return to England after graduation. It had taken a rather explosive argument at the annual Quidditch match closing the Season last year for her to change her perspective on the dark wizard.

It was forbidden for ladies to play in the match, but Ginny had wanted to. She had played endless games with her brothers back on the Weasley's shabby Burrow Manor. It had rankled throughout her years at Beauxbatons that the sport was forbidden to ladies at the academy, knowing that she – the equal of any male player in the school's teams and better than many of them – had not been permitted to play. Whilst such a restriction was not imposed on female students at Hogwarts, the Season's game makers had infuriatingly chosen to ban ladies from participating!

However, there was a silver lining. The game makers had decided to add a little spice to the proceedings by making the players masked and thus completely anonymous, unknowingly presenting her with an opportunity to achieve her heart's desire. She had bound up her long, red hair, charmed her voice to achieve a less feminine register, and disguised herself, trusting the bulky quidditch robes to obscure her figure. Merry and pleased with her deception, she joined the Gryphons team and played alongside her unwitting brothers Fred and George against the Ashwinders.

Playing chaser on that day had been simply exhilarating. Rain had poured down upon the pitch, and she had scored goal after goal, flying swiftly through the cool air. One Ashwinder chaser in particular had repeatedly plagued her, tailing and tracking her, until Ginny had gone on the offensive and slammed into him. He had been so aggravated that he completely missed the subsequent penalty shot granted to the Ashwinders.

Afterwards she had ducked out to an empty barn to re-attire herself appropriately and remove her disguises. No sooner than she had uttered _Finite Incantatem_ had the mysterious chaser walked purposefully into the barn.

Ginny had stared at him for several long heartbeats, while he stared back, dark eyes inscrutable through his black mask.

At last he removed it and flung it to the ground. "Ginevra Weasley," he growled.

Ginny merely raised an eyebrow. "That should be _Lady_ Weasley to you, Mr Zabini. This is most inappropriate to invade a lady's private quarters. I must insist you leave."

"Inappropriate, my lady? No more so than disguising oneself as a man to compete in express violation of the rules!."

"I was under the impression that Slytherins were no stranger to bending the rules a time or two." The words popped out of Ginny's mouth before she could consider what a suggestive statement that was. The temperature in the barn seemed to go up by several degrees.

"Indeed. Apparently, as you have so brazenly demonstrated, neither are Gryffindors."

Whilst Ginny may not have attended Hogwarts, her brothers and parents certainly had, and each had been a proud member of the lion's house. Ginny's chin rose to an icy tilt. She would _not_ take the snake's bait! "That is a low blow, sir. I believe you are simply aggravated that I outperformed you on the quidditch pitch."

Blaise took two steps towards her. Ginny felt the comforting weight of her wand, in its holder upon her chatelaine. If this slimy git tried anything, she would send a swift bat-bogey hex his way.

He continued to advance upon her until he stood before her. He was inappropriately close. So close, that she noticed for the first time how truly remarkable his eyes were. A rich, deep brown, fringed with long, dark lashes, they gazed into hers with a stormy intensity that she had never beheld before. He said nothing, merely looked back into her eyes, some unnameable emotion hidden in those depths. Discreetly reaching to her chatelaine, she raised her wand, between their bodies, pointing it directly at his chest. "Leave me, Mr Zabini, and say nothing of this to anyone. Else, I shall hex you into next Sunday."

Surprisingly, his intent glare faded away as a sardonic smile crossed his face. "I should like to see you try."

"Perhaps we can reach an accord?" His lips were so close. All she had to do was stand on tiptoes and… _Witch, get a hold of yourself! _she thought with an internal moment of shock at the line of reasoning.

"What type of accord are you thinking of?" He made no move for his own wand, though Ginny had no doubt it was concealed on his person much as hers was.

"Leave, and speak of this to no one," she repeated. "I in turn shall not divulge your uncouth intrusion."

A shadow, unreadable, crossed his face. "Very well." He turned on his heel and left the barn, walking back out into the still steadily falling rain, leaving Ginny feeling flushed and with her heart beating. Such a sudden attraction, almost violent in its intensity, was heretofore utterly alien to her.

From that inauspicious meeting, their peculiar connection had grown, almost a magnetic pull drawing their attention to one another. At each party they crossed paths, bantering and sniping at one another, until one day when they had encountered one another in an empty drawing room in the Lovegood estate.

Ginny had begun as she usually did in their encounters, smartly telling him, "Mr Zabini, really, this again? Surely you are not so ill-mannered that –"

He had cut her off by rapidly approaching her and bringing his lips down to hers. His strong arms pulled her into a tight embrace, pressing her body into his. She knew how she was supposed to feel. Indignant, offended, perhaps even outraged, at least according to Madame Olympe in her lectures regarding propriety. Instead, all she felt was a strange thrill coursing through her, and instead of pushing him away, she twined her arms about his neck. He kissed her surprisingly softly for all his ferocity, his lips enticing her to forget her anger and forget everything but the moment and the two of them. With each kiss, she grew more breathless, her body tingling and alive in a way she had never felt before. She parted her lips and let his tongue slip into her mouth, lightly sucking on his lower lip, until…

He broke away from her abruptly, striding out of the room without a word. In a curious echo of their first encounter that day at the quidditch match, Ginny at first stood there catching her breath, wondering what had just happened. It was wildly inappropriate and scandalous and wonderful. She had taken a deep breath, quickly tidied her hair and makeup with her wand, and returned to the party. They had stolen more kisses over the next few months, their mutual attraction deep and seemingly insatiable. Ginny had been preparing to ask him to court her openly when her parents had revealed their grand plan for Ginny's future – her future as the Lady Ginevra Potter. Blaise had not spoken a word to her since, nor had she sought him out.

Now he stood there, carefully avoiding looking directly at her but, Ginny knew, not missing a single moment. Her dark lover. Her greatest secret. And the true reason that she had absolutely no desire to wed Mr Harry Potter.

* * *

It had been a rather intriguing ball, Hermione had to admit, and not merely for the, well, _quirky_ ideas espoused by Mr Lovegood. She was eagerly anticipating the opportunity to learn more of the British wizarding society as the Season progressed.

As she and Ginny were shown to their lodging for the evening at estate by a rather vocal house-elf, she took a moment to survey the room. It was opulent, decorated in pale blue and gold in a rather French theme, with a large painting of a mermaid decorating the wall. In the manner of the enchanted portraits of the wizarding world, the mermaid splashed her fins merrily and smiled at the two ladies. The house-elf – Winky – drew back the curtains on the two four-poster beds, and urged the two young misses to rest. Hermione barely heard Ginny's whispered goodnight as her tired head reached the pillow. The last thing to pass through her mind before she slipped into slumber was an open, honest face with tousled red hair, a long nose, and stormy blue eyes, regarding her as he danced in the embrace of another woman.

* * *

**Author's Notes**

**Five-Legged Beast: **This is a Quintaped, which according _to Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_ is a violent creature found on a remote Scottish Isle.

**Regency Era Manners: **I'm taking liberties with quite a few of the traditional customs and societal norms, particularly with regards to the status and freedoms of females. According to JK Rowling, wizarding society was slightly more progressive than Muggle society (as alluded towards in _Tales of Beedle the Bard_).

**Pairings:** Some of the pairings in this story will be diverging from canon. It is intended to be a romantic drama, a 'what if' in a different time and place. It is ultimately a Romione fanfiction, however!


	3. A Stay At Burrow Manor

Thanks the follows and reviews! :)

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**Chapter 3: A Stay At Burrow Manor**

**_Lovegood Estate, Somerset, November 1813_**

Hermione stretched languorously on the soft feather bed. A swift popping noise sounded in the Lovegood's guest quarters, followed by the squeaky voice of Winky inviting her and Lady Ginny to partake in a morning bath, followed by some light refreshment to break their fast before their return journey to Bath Station.

She lingered for a moment, thinking back on the evening that had just passed. Meeting Mr Weasley had stubbornly lodged in her mind. She could not stop thinking of those mesmerising eyes, deep blue streaked with clearest grey, fringed with long, dark red lashes, and rather inappropriately watching her closely as he danced about with Miss Brown. _Put him out of your mind, _she told herself firmly. Clearly, Mr Weasley had some sort of understanding with Miss Brown, and Hermione was most certainly not the sort of person to intrude upon another's relationship.

Standing, she drew back the heavy blue curtains, letting the morning sunlight flow into the room. The diminutive elf, clad in a tidy little pale blue dress and hat, snapped her fingers, and the dresser and tables lining the walls obligingly moved aside as a pale stone archway materialised. Not for the first time, she wondered at the powerful abilities that non-human magical beings wielded, and at the curious lack of interest in such power displayed by the wizarding world. Certainly, she reflected with disappointment, the wave of surprise caused by Minister Stump's new legal designation of such beings indicated that the prejudices of society ran far deeper than the blood status discrimination that she herself had experienced.

Through the archway, two gleaming porcelain tubs could be glimpsed, fragrant steam issuing invitingly from their surfaces. The room's floor was intricately tiled, with a detailed design of that same curious symbol that Hermione had glimpsed adorning Mr Lovegood's neck – the other enigma of the evening to stick fast in her mind. It was depicted in various shades of yellow, from a bright sunshine to a glowing golden hue. The effect was actually quite lovely, Hermione thought. She made a mental note to research the symbol as she and Ginny removed their chemises and entered their respective baths.

The water was heavenly, warm and soothing, and the bowls of dried herbs and flowers that Winky had helpfully placed on small tables beside each witch gave off a wonderful fragrance of the woods when strewn through the bath.

"Ginny," Hermione began curiously, "what is the symbol upon the floor? I have not come across it previously."

Ginny sighed contentedly, addressing her from behind the privacy screen erected between the two tubs. "It is most peculiar that it should show up here of all places, but I believe Mr Lovegood has a certain affinity for the emblem. It is from a children's tale, a story of the three brothers?"

"I am afraid that I did not hear such a story as a child - my tales were those of the muggle world! Perhaps you can enlighten me?"

Ginny provided a succinct overview of the old children's tale, of the three Peverell brothers who once met Death on a lonely road, challenging the dark entity for its treasures, and of their folly and eventual defeat.

"The symbol represents the three items together – the cloak, the ring, and the wand, do you see?"

"What a fascinating tale! It makes one consider why it is so significant to the Lovegoods that they would inscribe the very emblem of the triad into their home."

Ginny shrugged. "Who can say? Questing for the 'deathly hallows' as they are termed is a not uncommon leisure pastime among wizarding society – much like that muggle nature rambling that you have described to me."

Hermione considered there to be a fairly strong distinction between exploring the woods for peculiar flora and fauna, and exploring various locations for magical objects, but resolved to undertake some reading on the subject when she returned to her family home in Surrey. She changed conversational tacks, discreetly trying to find out a little more about the tall, red-haired wizard.

"I noticed that Miss Brown appeared quite enamoured of Mr Weasley."

Ginny scoffed. "That is a very diplomatic way of putting it. Miss Lavender is quite the flirt, and always has been. However, she has limited herself to pursing Ron in recent times."

"He does not return her regard?" She asked, keeping her voice oh-so-carefully neutral.

"Are you perhaps interested?" She could practically hear the smirk in Ginny's voice.

"Of course not! I am just curious."

"Hmm."

"Really!"

"Well, for your _curiosity_, he is not interested. In fact, he could scarcely take his eyes off of you. Miss Lavender was glaring daggers at you by the night's end, did you not notice?"

Grateful for the privacy screen obscuring her blush, Hermione replied hastily. "No, I did not." Searching for a new topic of discussion, she turned to their hosts. "Miss Luna was quite charming, she actually had some fascinating examples of magizoology from her travels. It is one thing to read of these creatures, but to actually have observed them!"

"Indeed. With her recent marriage to Neville, I believe the two of them will be proper naturalists, through and through - his passion for plants, and hers for animals."

"Lord Longbottom was quite pleasant to talk to, as well. They have invited me for tea when they return from their honeymoon. I quite look forward to it."

She dressed rather simply, in a white muslin day dress, and left her hair long and loose, with the sides pinned back to prevent its natural inclination to curl from causing her hair to revert to its usual bushy tendencies. As they re-entered the guest quarters, the archway melted away, and the furniture resumed its former position. A steaming pot of mint tea, coffee, fresh fruits, and bread and crumpets were carefully arranged on a round white table. Hermione gave herself a mental note to give their hosts thanks for the elf's polite and pleasant service, and to please convey her gratitude to Winky. She sipped at the tea, relishing the warm, refreshing flavour.

Ginny devoured her own repast, claiming to feel rather famished. Knowing from their school days that Ginny tended to overindulge – in everything – when stressed, Hermione wondered what had her dear friend feeling so distressed. Knowing that Ginny's temper seldom stayed quiet for long, Hermione refrained from making any overt enquiries, trusting that Ginny would expound upon the issue in her own time. However, she kept her topics of discussion as harmless and polite as Hermione did, and did not divulge the source of her antagonism as they finalised their dessert and made their way back to the carriages.

* * *

_**Burrow Manor, Ottery St Catchpole**_

_**November 1813**_

It was much later in the day when Hermione and Ginny returned to Burrow Manor, the Weasley home. Hermione was excited – after much discussion with Lord and Lady Weasley, her parents had agreed to let her stay at the manor for several nights, no doubt in the hopes that attending the magical Season events with an old and respected family such as the Weasleys would lead to her finding a husband.

Hermione feared that her parents felt an ever increasing distance between them. From the day that a representative from the Wizarding Council had approached the family and informed them that their daughter was not merely 'strange', but a witch, Hermione had leapt into the new world with an enthusiastic and inquisitive mind. It was an opportunity to finally no longer be the "strange" and lonely child she had been, but a scholar and - perhaps - a part of something else. Something wonderful, a world seemingly more enlightened than the domestic cage that awaited her in the muggle world.

With each year that she departed for Beauxbatons, they had grown a little sadder, a little more reserved. Hermione endeavoured wholeheartedly to keep them included in her new world, with constant letters and magical gifts (they had been bemused by the toothflossing stringmints, but loved them nevertheless). In spite of this, they had continued to feel more distant with each passing year.

Mr and Mrs Granger had looked upon her graduation with relief, and had let it slip during one dinnertime conversation how glad they were that she was returning to "the real world" at last. They had been supportive, but slightly heartbroken, at hearing of her apprenticeship in the magical law field, albeit proud of her achievements. Subsequently, they suggested that perhaps her social world could be more entrenched in the world of muggles, beginning with her debut. Following this, they had pushed quite strongly for her to find a partner among muggle society, hoping to permanently anchor her in the "normal" world. If spite of their consistent, but subtle, push throughout all they had respected her wish to choose for herself whether or not to marry, and if so to whom.

Hermione's polite, understated antipathy to their proposed suitors had led to a point where she supposed they would be grateful for her to marry at all, let alone if the husband in question was a wizard. Still, she hoped that they would let the point lie idle for a time. Whilst she was twenty-one - virtually an old maid by muggle standards! - she longed for independence rather than a chauvinistic husband who would fail to respect her. Men were simply not attracted to her disingenuous honesty and her thirst for knowledge and debate. She had no desire to be with a partner who merely desired a means of producing heirs.

At last the floo neatly deposited her into a large drawing room. As the ash cleared, she observed that was a stately old building, looking slightly run down at the edges, but charming nevertheless. The drawing room was elegant, but with some eccentric touches that Hermione had come to recognise as commonplace in wizarding establishments. Tall windows, with deep purple velvet curtains drawn back to show the rolling green hills and gardens surrounding the estate, providing the room with ample natural light. Small figures capered in the garden, gnomes if she was not mistaken.

A tall man with the same bright red hair and brown eyes as Ginny, but rather a rather more sombre expression, greeted her formally. His demeanour was rather stiff and proper – a world away from that of his sister. He bowed. "Welcome, Miss Granger, to Burrow Manor. My name is Percy Weasley, and it is a pleasure to have you here in our home."

Hermione smiled graciously and dipped in a curtsey. "Thank you kindly, Lord Percy, for having me here. It is a great pleasure to be able to spend some time with Lady Ginevra, for she is a treasured friend."

"Please, Miss Granger, do not feel the need to stand on – er - ceremony." Hermione hid her smile – this Mr Weasley looked like the type of man who would always prefer to stand on ceremony. "My lady mother left instructions that you were to be made most welcome."

A flare of green fire announced Ginny's arrival, and she stepped smartly out of the fireplace, brushing soot away from her shoulders.

"Hello, Percy!" Ginny greeted her older brother cheerfully. "You so should have come to the Lovegood's last night. It was quite hilarious watching poor Ron attempt to dodge Miss Brown's advances."

Percy was clearly scandalised at her familiarity in company. His ginger eyebrows climbed so high that Hermione feared that they would disappear into his hairline. "Welcome home, sister," he greeted her stiffly. "I am glad you enjoyed the festivities at Lord Lovegood's manor. I shall update you regarding our mother and father's travel once you have comported yourself."

"Oh, don't be silly! I take it Ron returned earlier this morning? We did not see him at the Lovegood's this morning."

"I am afraid that our brother has chosen to stay with Mr Potter until mother and father return. He and Mr Potter left letters for you and Miss Granger, which have been placed in your rooms. Miss Hestia will show you there. Miss Hestia!"

With a loud pop, an older witch materialised in front of them. She exclaimed over Ginny and Hermione and let them up the winding staircase to the guest wing. Ginny then returned to her rooms, promising to show Hermione the gnome-infested rose gardens later in the afternoon.

A loud and familiar meow alerted Hermione to the presence of her dear old familiar, Crookshanks. The ginger, bandy-legged half-kneazle had stolen her heart when she first saw him in Diagon Alley, . He was getting on a bit in years, his legs bandier than ever, but he remained ever a faithful companion to her. He sat on her bed, purring loudly at the sight of her. They both jumped at a loud crashing sound from the roof above. "By Circe, Crookshanks, what could that have been?" The kneazle looked unconcerned, curling up on the bed with his bottlebrush tail twitching.

A loud groan identified the sound as a ghoul. _Oh, yes!_ She remembered Ginny's stories about the manor ghoul who lived in one of the dilapidated towers. After giving a gentle rub to Crookshank's ears, as he preferred, she retrieved two books from her chest, and sat in the easy-chair by the window. _Hogwarts: A History_ and _Tales of Beedle the Bard_. Perhaps these would shed some light on that strange symbol.

* * *

_**Quidditch Meadow, Potter Estate, Godric's Hollow**_

_**November 2013**_

"_Expelliarmus!"_

_"__Protego!"_

The invisible shield sent the beam of red light bouncing away from Ron in a shower of red sparks. Longbottom had grown into a surprisingly formidable wizard, he really had, but he was a long way from matching he and Harry for innate jinx and counter-jinx talent.

Of course, Neville specialised in poisons and antidotes, his inclination towards Herbology almost giving him his Auror speciality by default. Their training supervisor, a feisty young witch by the name of Miss Venusia Crickerly, had almost driven Neville from the program several times with her stern demeanour. However, she had come to see what Harry and Ron had so long ago – Neville's quiet demeanour and clumsiness hid a core of deep steel, and a bottomless well of courage.

"Come on, Longbottom, focus!" Harry watched from the sidelines. "Again!"

Ron started the next round with a rather minor charm, but one that had proved surprisingly useful in disabling opponents in the field. "_Tarantallegra_!"

Neville's shield charm wavered and broke under the charm. Neville immediately began to dance a jig that looked remarkably similar to a highland fling. This did not stop him from levelling his wand at Ron and fired a tickling charm towards the other wizard. "_Rictusempra!_"

Ron's shield charm was a hair too slow, and he began to laugh hysterically as invisible fingers tickled his most sensitive spots. Chuckling, he realised that Neville had struck him but good that time, as there was no quick counter-charm. He aimed again, speaking the curse as clearly as he could over his chortling. "_Levicorpus!"_

His opponent promptly turned upside down, hoisted into the air on one ankle, his free leg futilely attempting to continue dancing in mid-air. Sweat was dripping from Neville's brow. Harry was by this stage howling with laughter watching the two wizards duel.

"Time to finish this, Weasley!" Neville yelled with a grin. "_Accio _devil's snare!"

A crash sounded from the Potter's conservatory, and a small potted plant zoomed into Neville's grasp. He threw it into the air towards Ron and shouted, "_Engorgio!"_

The plant began to swell as it flew towards Ron, green grasping arms reaching out for him, who by now had doubled over in an increasingly hysterical fit of laughter. "_Lumo…. Lumos maxima!"_ A brilliant beam of light erupted from the wand tip, and as its pot drifted to the ground, the plant shrank back into insignificance, sitting innocuously in its pot.

"Gentlemen, I'm going to call this one a draw. _Finite incantatem."_ Harry waved his wand, and the tickling and dancing feet ceased as Neville fell to the ground.

Ron clambered to his feet first. "Good show, Longbottom," he said, giving him a hearty clap on the back. Neville grinned under the praise.

"I'm going to get the better of you one of these duels, Weasley," he replied.

The Potter's house-elf had placed a refreshments table with several jugs of iced pumpkin juice and freshly squeezed lemonade, which the three men drank with alacrity, the unusually warm autumn weather fuelling their exertions.

They lingered outside, discussing the latest batch of recruits to join the department, the reforms being implemented by Minister Stump, and Neville's recent marriage to Miss Luna Lovegood, now the Lady Luna Longbottom. Theirs was a match that had practically been decided since their days at Hogwarts, with the unconventional young Ravenclaw casting a wholly different type of spell over him from the day she first entered the Great Hall.

"Enough about me. You are engaged, Harry, so you are as good as married off. That just leaves you as the odd man out, Ron," Neville teased.

"Bloody hell, don't you join mother's cause as well!"

"If she was anything at all like Miss Ginny's Beauxbatons friend from the ball last evening, you would not be so reluctant to tie yourself down, I'm guessing," Harry said slyly.

"Miss Granger? I quite liked her," Neville responded, correctly guessing Harry's insinuation. "She seemed most amiable, and we discussed some fascinating plants that she had observed in France. I intend to go to Beauxbatons and study some of the continental species after Luna and I return from our honeymoon."

"Ginny never mentioned how beautiful she is," Ron mused, lost in a reverie of the Sun Ball. "Miss Granger was quite... enchanting."

Harry's expression turned serious. "You wish to court her, then?" he queried, going straight to the heart of the matter.

He had only spoken but quickly to the dark-haired witch, but she had captured his attentions in that brief encounter. There was a fire lurking beneath the surface of those pretty, dark, golden-bronze eyes, one that he longed to coax forth. "I would certainly like to get to know her better."

"Then you ought to formally reject Miss Lavender. For her sake, as well as your family's. She's a scandal waiting to happen, that girl, and you do not want to lead her down the garden path."

Ron nodded decisively. "Indeed. I'll floo to her apartments this evening, informing her that I do not wish to marry her."

"I suggest not," Harry hastily replied. "If you are alone together..." he trailed off meaningfully. He had a sneaking suspicion that he would not be so easily done with Lavender. The lady did not take rejection well – as evidenced by her dogged pursuit of Ron – and he hoped she would not sabotage his efforts to win Miss Granger.

"Err, then perhaps I shall owl her, then."

Neville flushed. "Then you'll be free to pursue Miss Granger," he said.

"Mother and father are hosting a dinner to celebrate their return from Egypt in three nights' hence. I shall arrange an opportunity for she and I to speak privately."

He would endeavour to be as kind with his rejection as one could be, and hope for her understanding. That did not, however, solve the new issue that had presented itself before him. Discussing the matter with Neville and Harry, he plotted the best manner to charm his way into his lovely witch's heart.

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**Author's Notes**

**Minister for Magic: **During 1813, the MoM was Grogan Stump. According to the Harry Potter Wiki, he was a popular minister, noted for numerous reforms including the creation of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures.

**Regency Era Meals:** In the regency era, breakfast was typically taken at 10am. There is some really interesting information on dining in Regency England at janeaustensworld. wordpress. com!

**Venusia Crickerly:** Venusia is mentioned on Pottermore as a former Auror and the Minister of Magic from 1903 – 1912. Considering that wizards can live quite longer than muggles, I've assumed for the purposes of this story that she entered the Auror training program quite young, and was over the age of 120 by the time she assumed office as the MoM.

**Wizarding World Peerage: **This story assumes that many of the old pureblood families possessed titles. Considering that JKR noted on Pottermore that a member of the Malfoy family attempted to marry Elizabeth I, this doesn't seem too far-fetched a possibility!


	4. Desperate Measures

Thanks once more for the follows everyone and for the review, **arabellagrace**! :) Warning: this chapter is where the M rating starts to come in… but only a little bit! Mildly naughty scenes ahead.

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**Chapter 4: Desperate Measures**

_**Burrow Manor, Ottery St Catchpole, November 1813**_

_Gin,_

_Staying at Harry's until mum and dad return. Couldn't abide Percy's nagging. See you on Sunday. _

_Your brother,_

_Ron_

_Dear Ginny,_

_I've asked Ron to stay at the estate for several nights. Neville is in attendance, and we are taking an opportunity to enjoy some recreational time before returning to work next week._

_I hope that you are well. You looked lovely as always last night. If you should require anything, do not hesitate to send Errol at once._

_Your fiancé,_

_Harry_

Ginny looked at the two letters, rolling her eyes at Ron's short note and then pensively returned the pieces of parchment back into tightly furled scrolls. She had excused herself to retire to her room, ostensibly to review the notes and rest during the hottest part of the day.

Dear Harry's letter said much by its brevity and stiltedness - Merlin, he was as unhappy as she at their respective parent's perfidy, if too much of a gentleman to say so - and reviewing it firmed her resolution. She would end this farce today, and bear the brunt of the consequences.

She waved her cedar-and-unicorn hair wand and summoned her patronus. Thankfully, this was one spell-based method of communication that her eldest brother William - due to his curse-breaking profession - and Ron - due to his Auror training - both had been most insistent that their siblings master.

A familiar tall, shining silver horse emerged from the air. Ginny reached out and stroked the glimmering, spectral mane fondly. "Go to Blaise. Do not let anyone else see you. Pass on this message: 'Apparate to the Burrow stables in ten minutes. Come alone, and do not inform anyone else of your purpose nor destination. Please.'"

The horse cantered away silently, shimmering and fading as it did so.

Ginny tapped her wand to her head, casting a hasty disillusionment charm. She crept swiftly and silently downstairs, and crept through the kitchen. Old Miss Hestia, dozing lightly on a chair in the corner, did not rouse as she stealthily made her way past. Their cook was mercifully absent, having gone into the village to purchase the weekly household supplies. Percy could certainly be depended upon to be attempting to further his courtship of Miss Penelope Clearwater, and Hermione, bless her, would no doubt be deeply entrenched in a book. No one would remark her disappearance for the next few hours.

The noonday sun was warm, shining down on her concealed face. She entered the old barn, casting silent _muffliato_ and concealment charms around the building's edges.

The old wooden door creaked as Blaise entered, accompanied by the silver patronus. With a toss of its mane, the shining horse dissolved into the air. Ginny disillusioned herself, relishing the opportunity to openly gaze upon him once more without concern over prying eyes. He was superbly attired as always, and wore a champagne-coloured waist coat, a crisp white shirt with ivory cravat, and dark, tight breeches. He said nothing, merely looked at her with an insouciance too carefully perfect to be genuine. Her heart clenched at the repressed hurt, so evident in his dark eyes.

Ginny herself wore a simple sky blue day cotton dress, her waist tied with a white scarf. Her head was bare, her long flame-coloured hair left unbound and flowing freely down her back. Her expression, unsure but determined, mirrored her internal disquiet. Surely, he had to understand.

"Blaise..." She greeted him, unsure where to begin. To her horror, several unbidden tears began to course down her cheeks.

"Lady Weasley," Blaise muttered tightly. "It is most inappropriate for an affianced lady to behave in this manner."

"For pity's sake, let me at least explain before you condemn me!"

"What is there to explain? You dishonour me and yourself – and your betrothed, the man with whom your affections clearly lie – with such a meeting. You have five minutes of my time, and then I am quitting this place."

"This was not my choice!" she cried, the words tumbling forth. "Neither I nor Harry did this." Blaise's eyes rose at the intimate form of address, and she growled in exasperation. "Our engagement was agreed upon by our families. It was decided that we would marry upon my twenty-first birthday."

He raised one eyebrow. "You've made no effort to extricate yourself from this arrangement. These are not the dark ages, madam. You have a choice -" Even as he said it, he knew it for a lie. Pureblood families had a way of imposing their will, and invariably it was the witch who suffered as a result.

"Do not be foolish! You know as well as I those contracts are nigh unbreakable. Circe knows, I have tried. Little short of my abandoning my family will permit my escape. And whilst I am infuriated with them... my mother especially... I love them still. I cannot abandon them."

Blaise said nothing for a moment. Then, he began in a softer tone, "Ginevra... Be truthful with me. You truly do not wish to marry Harry Potter?"

Her chin rose to that icy tilt he knew so well, brown eyes locked upon his. "No. When I marry, I wish it to be to a wizard of my choice. And I would choose..." She coloured and dropped her gaze. "That is to say, if circumstances would..."

Blaise approached her with that same purposeful rapidity as he had on that fateful day, and with his fingers tipped her chin up so that her eyes met his. "Whom would you choose?"

"You," she breathed. "Gods above help me, but I would choose you. I care not for our familial opposition, not for anything other than you and I being free to be together - openly - at last."

Time stood still as he closed the gap between them, his lips softly meeting hers. Gently he pulled back, resting his forehead against hers. "Forgive me for losing faith," he whispered.

_There is nothing to forgive, _Ginny thought, _for his jealousy and temper echoes my own, behind that controlled mask he presents to the world. Had I witnessed such a spectacle, I surely would have reacted in a similar manner, if not worse. _Her talent with a hasty jinx or hex was known – and justifiably feared – amongst her brothers.

"Can we not break it? Surely Potter has tried," Blaise said, breaking the lull. "I would gladly pay the cost of any such contract."

"No, we cannot. It is not merely a matter of dowry. My family would not willingly relinquish my hand to you. The old suspicions against the families associated with dark magic - Malfoys, Greengrasses, Zabinis… " she trailed off. "They run too strongly."

"I shall consult my solicitor this very afternoon. You are a woman grown, and there must be a way. We can negotiate with your parents." He chuckled darkly. "If I can win you over, my fiery witch, I can surely win your parents to my cause."

"There is another way to break it," she whispered, eyes downcast. _Summon your courage, woman. _She drew in a deep breath.

"If I am no longer... Pure... The contract is rendered null and void."

He said nothing, merely kissed each of her tears away. Once he had accomplished this, he trailed still more kisses over her hair, her cheeks, her eyelids. She wanted him… Oh, Merlin, she needed him. Needed this. Every light touch of his lips renewed her passion for her forbidden Slytherin suitor as she melted into his embrace. "Oh gods, Blaise…"

"I cannot," he regretfully murmured between each light touch of his lips. "You would be ruined, my love."

"I don't care," she whispered. She placed her hands about his neck and drew his face, his lips, to hers. His kiss was soft and gentle as the first, her lips soft and parted beneath his, their lips melding, tongues twining together. He captured her moans as he ravished her mouth in a scorching kiss, as his hands roamed over her waist, grasping her buttocks, pulling her against him. He broke away from her, and his lips trailed down her neck, over her collarbone to the tops of her breasts, their hard and sensitive tips visible against the blue fabric of her dress, before returning to her lips once more. She pressed against him shamelessly, feeling his hardness pressing against her thigh, and reached for him. They had never crossed this threshold in their previous trysts. Now… _Now I can finally sate my curiosity, _she thought with an internal smirk at her own boldness. She lightly caressed his manhood through his breeches, feeling him immediately stiffen further in response to her touch. He groaned.

"Not yet, Ginevra," he told her, gently pushing her hand away with a gentle sigh of regret. He kissed her once more, softly grazing his lips against her throat. "Please..." he whispered into her ear, his breath tickling her neck, "I can give you this now - and no harm will come of it."

He led her over to the soft, fragrant hay, and laid her down before him. She looked up at him, challenging him with those whiskey-hued eyes, darkened with passion, to simply take her there and then. Steeling his desire, he trailed his large hand up her bare leg, under her skirts, beneath her chemise and undergarments to caress her nether regions. She felt warm and wet against his fingers, a tell-tale blush of arousal spreading over her face and décolletage. He intimately stroked her with skilled fingers, circling his thumb around the heart of her desire.

She moaned and closed her eyes as the intensely sensations took her, caressing her where only her own fingers had ever touched. It was exquisitely, almost unbearably intimate. "Blaise... Oh gods, please don't stop!"

With gentle touches he teased her until the delicious pressure on her most sensitive spot grew until she finally burst in a climax more passionate than anything she had experienced from her own self-pleasure. She cried his name as she found her bliss.

Panting, she reached for him again. "No, Ginny," he said, his forehead resting against hers. "You do not have to. Just this is enough."

Temporarily satiated, she did not press Blaise. Her plan had failed, her engagement to Harry stood, but she still felt strangely… content… as she lay there in his arms in the barn. The warm scent of the hay, the golden rays of sunshine through the windows, the dust motes shining suspended in the air, and the sight of her dark Slytherin lover - returned to her once more - there beside her. This was a moment she would hold in her heart forever.

* * *

_**Brown Residence, London City**_

Lavender sat in her room, sobbing. When Ron's cheerful, tiny owl had appeared at her window, hooting loudly, she had almost shouted with triumph. Finally, a message!

She had hastily detached the letter from the madly fluttering owl. She then gave it an owl treat, and it hooted as though inordinately pleased with itself as the small, fluffy bird flitted away. As she unfurled the parchment scroll, her heart had sunk to its lowest ebb.

_Dear Miss Brown,_

_My lady, I am writing with regards to our relationship. Whilst I hold you in highest esteem, I cannot continue to permit any misunderstandings between us, and must clarify my feelings on the matter that has now been brought to my attention._

_I do not wish to marry you. Please understand, this has naught to do with your own charms, which are many. I am simply searching for..._

Her chest burned as she breathed in unsteady hitches, choking down a sob of disbelief. Lavender had not bothered to finish the letter. Tears blurring her vision, she then hurled the dreadful thing into the fireplace, taking bitter satisfaction in seeing the hateful words consumed by the flames.

She threw herself upon her bed and sobbed passionately into her pillow. At last when the storm of weeping had passed, she pondered the situation. All had been going splendidly until the ball last night. When that muggleborn bitch had caught Ron's attention.

She was to be the Lady Lavender Weasley! No matter than his family possessed no wealth. Her dowry would have been generous enough to support the both of them, and Ron was amiable enough that she could be the true mistress of her marital domain. No plain, foreign-trained, know-it-all was going to take him away from her. A devious plan was forming in her mind. The Season had only just begun, and there were ample opportunities to correct the situation in which she had found herself.

She _accio_'d some parchment and ink onto her writing table, penning a brief missive. She summoned her father's owl and attached the letter to its leg, watching with a vindictive smile and reddened eyes as the tawny bird flew off into the grey sky. Hopefully, the owl would return soon… along with her pale serpent. Then that man-stealing cow would be dealt with as she deserved.

* * *

**Author's Notes**

Hope you enjoyed this chapter! I promise that there will be some romance on the way for our favourite couple in the very near future. I've finally finished the outline for this story, and it is a slow burn indeed on the path to a happily-ever-after for the youngest Lord Weasley and Miss Granger. :)

**Ginny's Patronus:** The horse patronus is depicted in the Order of the Phoenix movie, and is confirmed by the Harry Potter Wiki as belonging to Ginny.

**Ginny's Wand:** The specifics of Ginny's wand are never confirmed in canon, so I have used the combination theorised on this useful wand website: _www. angelfire rebellion2/slytherinchamber/wands .html_


	5. I've Put A Spell On You

**Chapter 5: I've Put A Spell On You**

_**Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire, November 1813**_

Lavender reclined on a white wicker lounge in Malfoy Manor's solarium. The air was warm and humid in the fragrant, green room, with sunlight spilling through the glass walls. Jewel-toned orchids grew in profusion, evidently non-magical in nature, but lovely nevertheless. However, the shivering palm trees were clearly magical, and not over-fond of the forthcoming winter weather. Lavender could not recall the name of such plants, but no matter; ladies did not need to know about such matters, as her mother had always stated.

The object of her current attention, Draco Malfoy, apparated into the room, lazily walking over to the chair opposite, and seated himself. Silently brandishing his wand, he wordlessly summoned a crystal tumbler and decanter of brandy, which poured into his glass of its own accord before gently drifting to rest on a small, round wicker table.

Draco had been her first lover, a daring dalliance in sixth year that she had undertaken in a fit of pique following Ron's rejection of her interest. He was certainly not averse to scheming against Ron, she told herself, for men never truly outgrew the temptation to enjoy their juvenile habits from time to time. He would assist her in this, albeit for his own ends.

Mocking grey eyes looked over at her, assessing. Apparently _he _did not believe that their school day intimacy invited familiarity. "I presume this isn't a social visit, Miss Brown."

Lavender vaguely wished he had offered her some of that brandy, feeling her courage falter. Steeling herself, she began her request. "You presume correctly, sir. I wish to ask for your assistance in a rather delicate matter."

Draco idly raised a pale eyebrow. "What, pray tell, could cause a Gryffindor to seek the aid of the serpent's house?"

Lavender did not rise to the bait, though a surge of feminine outrage bolstered her courage. She lifted her chin to an icy tilt and looked the arrogant lordling squarely in the eye. "Mr Malfoy, my soon-to-be fiancé has had his head turned by the false charms of a mudblooded witch."

The ghost of a smile crossed Malfoy's lips. "Weasley threw you over for a Muggle? Whilst his tastes are lamentable, I fail to see what this has to with me, Miss Brown. Get to the point."

"I will be direct, sir. I require your assistance in luring the chit away from Mr Weasley. She is evidently using some foul magic to ensnare him, and I cannot rely on Mr Potter to aid me in this matter. I have approached you for your delicacy and discretion in this matter."

"And how to you propose that I _discreetly_ assist you in this matter?"

She blushed, and suspected that Draco was rather enjoying her discomfort. "She will seem far less of a prize to Ronald once you have had your way with her," she stated baldly.

"Charmingly phrased, Miss Brown, and whilst I would relish the opportunity to humiliate Potter and Weasley, I fail to see what would motivate me to assist you in such a paltry plot."

"You yourself just stated it, sir: an opportunity to humiliate your old enemies. Forgive my boldness, but I do recall Lord Malfoy's… political proclivities." Malfoy's grey eyes turned icy, and Lavender knew she had to tread carefully. "I would think that ruining a mudblood with the boldness to attempt to work within our noble Ministry would be a boon for your reputation amongst the old families."

Draco spoke firmly, and Lavender felt a small stab of pleasure at having penetrated his smug nonchalance. "Firstly: do not invoke my father's name in this matter, not today nor ever again. However, I do take your point. I shall consider your offer, and provide my reply… shall we say at the Deathday soiree seven nights' hence." It was not a question.

Swallowing, Lavender nodded and gave a shaky smile. "Thank you, Mr Malfoy. I look forward to your response."

* * *

**_Burrow Manor, Ottery St Catchpole_**

Hermione sat in the midst of the lengthy cedar table in the Weasley's dining room, with Ginny seated to her left and Mr Fred Weasley to her right. The guest of honour, the Lady Muriel Prewett, sat the head of the table. In accordance with custom, Lady Muriel had been seated first, assisted by Mr Weasley, and then an astonishing number of fire-haired family members had filed into the room and taken a seat. Hermione had been swept up in the throng and was guided to a seat by Ginny before she could take note of where _her_ Mr Weasley would be seated.

Hermione had taken note of Ginny's frequent statements about her large family, but by Circe's wand! The introductions had flown by with alacrity: Mr Fred Weasley and his wife, Angelina – a beautiful and tall Quidditch player with a ready smile, currently expecting their first child – his twin Mr George Weasley, and his wife Katie, of the Bell family – of course Percy was there, looking stiff and ill at ease – Mr Charles Weasley, the clan's irascible bachelor, recently returned from his latest sojourn in Romania, and the matriarch and patriarch of the venerable clan, Lord and Lady Weasley themselves, both slightly sunburned from the noonday Egyptian sun.

Ronald had seated himself directly across from her, with Ginny's bespectacled, dark-haired fiancé at his side. Covertly she watched him from under her lashes, noticing his open smile and even, white teeth as he laughed at something that Mr Potter had said.

He had been waiting outside of the dining room with Mr Potter when she and Ginny had come down from her quarters. Ginny had been momentarily distracted by Mr Potter, curiously flushing when she set eyes upon him, and Mr Weasley took the opportunity to greet Hermione. The two gentlemen were splendidly attired, with Mr Potter wearing a dark green waistcoat, trimmed with gold buttons, dark brown breeches, and high, polished boots. His crisp, ruffled shirt was snowy white, and the ensemble set off his dark green eyes to perfection. _He's a handsome gentleman, _Hermione pondered,_ well-mannered, considerate and kind to Ginny. Why did her interest fade?_

She was distracted from her musing when she appraised Mr Weasley. Today he appeared to have deviated from his colour of choice, and was attired in a buff-coloured greatcoat, a pressed white shirt, with an ivory cravat and charcoal-coloured trousers. Evidently he had attempted to tame his unruly red hair, which looked rather dashingly windswept in spite of his efforts. His eyes, cobalt in the candlelight, immediately locked with her bronze ones. She silently proffered her small hand, and he took it in his larger one. Bowing low, he had lightly brushed his lips over her skin. His touch felt like sweet fire, causing the strangest thrill to pass through her, a faint blush colouring her cheeks. At Hermione's soft gasp, Ginny had stepped away from Mr Potter, and smiled and scolded her tall brother for his presumptuousness, but she had scarce paid attention. She suddenly wished she had attired herself in something more pretty and feminine than her demure russet day dress.

"Good evening, Mr Weasley," she said, regaining her composure. "How are you this evening?"

"I am splendid Miss Granger, and most glad that you are able to join us this evening."

_Merlin, he truly is tall_, she thought, looking up at him to respond. "It is I who should be grateful, sir, for your family's hospitality. I was away from Britain much over my school years, and have rarely had the opportunity to leave the city since my employment with the Ministry."

"It is curious that we should both have worked at the Ministry these last several years and not been acquainted. I regret not spending more time at the headquarters, as I would have paramount enjoyed the opportunity to make your acquaintance sooner." Internally, Ron winced at his bluntness. _Think, Weasley, say something charming…_

Hermione smiled rather impishly. "I am much in the libraries Mr Weasley, I fear you and Mr Potter would rarely have seen me. You may be acquainted with my mentor, however, Mr Cedric Diggory."

"You are Digg- er, Mr Diggory's assistant? He has referred to you previously now that I recall it. He certainly has high praise for your knowledge of the law, madam," Ron responded. _Bloody hell, not Diggory!_ Ron thought. Half of the girls at Hogwarts had been in love with the man!

He was saved from having to make a suitably polite response to the news by the arrival of the remaining family members, who had chivvied the two couples into the dining room. The first course had passed relatively pleasantly, with anecdotes and tales of a recent visit with the Weasley heir, Mr William Weasley, a curse-breaker currently employed by Gringotts in their Egyptian office. Hermione found herself fascinated by the unusual sights that they had seen, and the first course was over in scarcely any time at all.

Hestia, ably assisted by Lady Prewett's house elf Tinsy, cleared away the first course with a wave of her wand, and promptly heavy silver trays, steaming and heavily laden, began to appear on the white linen cloth with audible pops. Ribs of lamb, sliced turkey, fresh crisp greens, oysters wrapped in bacon, and a steaming ragout of celery appeared for the savouries. Dishes of apple tarts, chilled lemon jelly, and tart raspberry cream were served as sweets.

"Had to empty the kitchen stores for this one, Weasley?" Lady Muriel enquired of Mr Weasley with a dry bark of a laugh. "I expect your larders have been cleaned out of the next month's supply!"

Mr Weasley did not leap to the bait, merely flushed and responded politely. "I do hope you enjoy the meal, Aunt."

Breaking the uncomfortable silence that descended upon the room after Lady Prewett's rather crass remarks, Hermione enquired politely, "I have read of several remarkable plants used in Egyptian dining, did you perchance encounter these in the local cuisine?"

Mrs Weasley gave a cool look at the brown haired witch. _She does not like me, _Hermione thought, _and I cannot fathom why. I must ask Ginny if I have offended her in some manner._ "We certainly did not dine in any disreputable establishments, Miss Granger. William ensured that we –"

Mr Weasley smoothly cut his wife off with a reproachful look. "Indeed, William took us to dine with his colleagues at one of the villages outside of Cairo. I was quite enjoying the supper course, which was served with some local berries – _sumac,_ I believe the guide said they were called – which unfortunately escaped from the plate and zoomed up my nose. They refused to be dislodged, even when the guide employed the _wadiwasi_ countercharm, which only served to make them bounce around whilst lodged in my nostrils. Rather astringent, unfortunately, and suffice to say my sinuses were quite clear after the apothecary had shrank them back to their appropriate size."

Ginny chortled merrily; Fred and George were laughing uproariously; Percy had a strained smile, and Charles – who had taken a drink of red wine – unceremoniously snorted as he swallowed. Ron and Harry both grinned.

"Umm. Well. I am sorry to have missed young Longbottom's wedding," Lord Weasley began, switching topics with a glance at his wife, who looked askance at Hermione, when she had giggled at the humorous picture painted by the words.

"Indeed," the Weasley matriarch rejoined. "I hope that you passed on our sincere apologies and congratulations to Neville and Lady Luna," she directed at Ron.

The Weasley addressed too a drink of his port and responded, "Indeed we did. It was a tremendously fun party, actually, old Lovegood certainly knows how to make an occasion entertaining."

"I hope you comported yourself appropriately, Ronald," she said sternly. "It is a great honour to be the Weasley representative of the sacred twenty-eight."

"I assure you, everything went splendidly," Harry chimed in, "and they will be making their debut at the deathday dance."

_Deathday dance? _Hermione pondered. She had heard of the event in discussion with colleagues at work, but had never attended the celebrations. During her postgraduate studies, she had taken the opportunity to observe Hogwarts' remarkable ghostly residents. When she had received her invitations to the various events of the Season, this was one that she had accepted most eagerly.

Hermione delicately negotiated the remainder of the evening's conversation, endeavouring to keep from offending her hosts. Unfortunately, each attempt at conversation, even on the most innocuous matters, seemed to inflame the rather temperamental Lady Weasley. Each time her eyes drifted irresistibly back to her Mr Weasley, a rude interjection would draw her attention back to the stern matron. At last, it was with an internal sigh of relief that the meal drew to a close, forgoing the traditional hour of brandy and cigars for the gentlemen. The twins departed with their spouses, Percy withdrew to show Lady Prewett to her quarters, and Ginny to have a quiet moment of discussion with Mr Potter. The Lord and Lady of the house retired for the evening.

Hermione slipped away into the estate's gardens, having pleaded a headache and told Ginny that she would be apparating back to her quarters. She wanted a few quiet moments before their inevitable discussion of the evening's events.

"Taking a moment to recover after my mother's volleys, Miss Granger?"

Hermione looked up from her marble seat, and beheld Mr Weasley regarding her with a teasing smile. "Oh, Lord Weasley! I am sorry, I merely was taking a moment before I departed, I shall –"

He raised an eyebrow. "Departing so soon?"

She flushed. "I mean to say, returning to my quarters – thank you kindly for your family's hospitality – I am most appreciative – " Merlin, she was stumbling over her words as though she was under a babbling curse!

"It is my pleasure, and certainly that of my family." He steeled his nerves. "Perhaps you would like to accompany me for a walk of the gardens?"

Glancing back at the house, Hermione could see that the lamps had been lit in Ginny's boudoir. _A brief constitutional would be no harm,_ she rationalised. _I shall be back before my absence is noted. _"Certainly, sir."

The moon was at its most slender before it would vanish, the crescent casting a milky light over the meadow and marshes spanning the grounds behind Burrow Manor. It was a clear night, though, and the sparkling stars provided some illumination. Hermione said little as they walked, close but not touching. Her heart pounded in her chest. _I wish I had paid more attention to Madame Olympe's lessons on feminine wiles,_ she thought desperately.

"Lord Weasley, I hope you do not think me too forward," she began hesitantly.

He smiled. "Certainly not, Miss Granger, and I appreciate you taking the chance to speak to me directly. Please, do not bother with the title. It is by courtesy only, and will pass on to William in truth."

Conversation then passed on comparatively safer topics - their respective employments within the Council, their mutual desire to travel to visit the wizarding hubs of the Americas, and the results of the recent autumn national Quidditch matches. Unlike other men she had encountered, he seemed sincerely interested in her opinions, and impressed at her book-smarts. He playfully volleyed with her at words, and she found herself enjoying his conversation enormously. At her pronouncement that she firmly believed that the Cannons had been unduly criticised for their performance in their last match against the Wimbourne Wasps, a breathtakingly handsome smile lit up Mr Weasley's face.

"Tell me, if I may ask - why did you not attend Hogwarts? I would have loved to have your acquaintance sooner," he queried, repeating his sentiment from earlier in the evening.

"I am muggleborn, Mr Weasley. A representative of Hogwarts - Professor McGonagall - did indeed contact my family upon the reveal of my magical inclination. However, given the anti-muggle sentiment at the time, it was decided that Beauxbatons would be safer."

"Indeed?

"There was some discussion of sending me further abroad, to Ilvermorny of all places. I did not wish to be so separated from my parents, however. I never regretted the choice, for it was at Beauxbatons that I met Ginny. Now, if I may ask you a question - why did Ginny attend Beauxbatons? From my understanding, the rest of your family have all attended Hogwarts."

"Well... They wished for her to have an opportunity to attend a more, well, elegant school, as such. As the only daughter and seventh child, Gin is the apple of mother and father's eye."

Their leisurely amble as they conversed had evidently led them further than she realised. Several small, glowing lights appeared before them, hovering the air. "By any chance, are those hinkypunks, sir?"

"No, we have never had those creatures in residence in the gardens. They are only will o' the wisps."

The lights glowed enticingly, and Hermione longed to reach out and touch them. "I thought that they could only be found in the northern isles!"

"They are rare on the mainland, but the winter cold brings them south."

Making a mental note to amend her copy of _Magical Creatures of the British Isles,_ Hermione looked again at the shimmering balls of light. There was something there, in the midst of the glow, almost as though a… butterfly, no, a faery… if she could just get a little closer…

Mr Weasley's hand grasped hers and gently but firmly pulled her back. He cast a wordless _lumos, _illuminating the black waters of the marshy pond before her. The lights scattered quickly, moving beyond the glow emanating from Mr Weasley's wand, lurking in the shadows. He leaned forward, close to her. "Be careful, Miss Granger," he spoke in low tones.

Hermione shook her head briefly to clear it. Will o' the wisps were closely related to the branch of magic that animated poltergeists and ghosts, she recalled. There had been a rather comprehensive book on the subject in the sizeable Beauxbatons library. Chief among the creature's delights was to lure an unwary traveller to dangerous places…

Mr Weasley was standing so close. Too close, should anyone see. But there was no one else there. _It is just he and I…_

She looked up at him. She wanted to express her gratitude, but for once her words failed her. In the starlight, his face was shadowed, unreadable.

His voice was low when he next spoke. "If I presume, but would you be inclined to accompany me to the Deathday Dance?"

"Yes, Mr Weasley. I would love to."

* * *

**Author's Notes**

Finally back! Sorry for the long gap… unfortunately I lost the word documents that the story and outline were on, and life got in the way before I could rewrite them. However, I'm back in the groove and will be updating a bit more regularly from now on!

**Second Course:** The second course is taken from _The Universal Cook: And City and Country Housekeeper (1792)_, as helpfully provided by: janeaustensworld. wordpress 2008/12/20/a-regency-meal-in-december/


	6. A Wizard's Recollections

**Chapter 6: A Wizard's Recollections**

Thanks heaps for the follows, favourite, and reviews! :)

* * *

**_Drawing Room, Potter Manor, November 1813_**

The drawing room in the Potter estate was a modest ode to Gryffindor House pride. The walls were panelled in the colour of a rich, dark wine, the ceiling's crown moldings adding golden accents. Deep redwood cases held the trophies from the triumphs of ancestral Potters, from the academic world to the Quidditch pitch. Shields from medieval times adorned the walls. The crowning glory was the shield bearing the lion heraldry of the Peverell family, an heirloom from the wedding dowry of Iolanthe Peverell, which had been passed through generations of Potters since the twelfth century.

Harry reclined comfortably in a winged chair, upholstered in soft, well-worn oxblood leather, close to the fireplace. He sat opposite Ron, the two men sitting in companionable silence enjoying their firewhiskies.

Their conversation throughout the evening had covered primarily inconsequential topics: more tales from the Weasley's journey in Egypt, Neville's obvious happiness upon his recent marriage, the Banchory Banger's most recent formal warning from the league, the newest batch of recruits joining the Auror program. Throughout it all, Ron had been curiously detached, staring into the dancing flames. The wizard was as easy to read as an open book. His head had been turned by Miss Granger in a way that Harry had never observed previously in Ron's romantic entanglements. From his limited observations of the young witch earlier in the evening, she appeared equally attracted to his dear friend. He smiled as he gazed into the flames, his hopefulness fading as the crimson fire reminding him of his fiancé.

The ice was growing greater between them, he reflected, as the date of their nuptials drew ever closer. If even a simple, companionable greeting was beyond them, how would their marriage fare?

He understood the rationale of his parents. The young lordling James Potter had married the muggleborn commoner Lily Evans in open defiance of both sets of parents shortly after their graduation from Hogwarts. The love that had fuelled their hasty marriage had burned out quickly, with the two of them maintaining a chilly but amicable public front. His father maintained a mistress in a London apartment (the rather scandalous Madam Emma Vanity), whilst his mother carried on with a rather inexplicable friendship – a chaste affair, but rather one of the heart – with the loathsome Professor Severus Snape through their mutual membership of the Potioneer's Society.

Consequently, they were in agreement over their 'rescue' of their son from the risks of marrying for love. They observed his good friendship with the Weasleys, who for all of their poverty were a respected and noble family, and arranged his engagement to Ginevra, the sister of his dearest friend. 'Formalising the bond between their families', as they had stated to him when they announced it, with the implication that he should be grateful of their care for his future.

For the first time in his life, Harry felt truly powerless. He had battled against dark creatures, the darkest wizards and witches, and had overcome all of them. But there was simply no way to fight back against this. If he protested, if he openly expressed his reservations about the engagement, he would likely sever the bond with his parents and Ron permanently.

_The reason that you overcame those foes was that you were not alone_, a small voice whispered in his thoughts. _You had Ron. You've always had Ron, and even Neville. You bloody well fought Voldemort at their sides. This is but jhgfiuya paltry matter in comparison. _ The simplicity of the notion stunned him momentarily. Why had he not confided in Ron before this?

_Because she's his sister_, that same subconscioabus voice reasoned. _But what Ron would never truly forgive would be you binding his sister into a loveless marriage._

He broke the silence by leaning forward and grasping the heavy crystal decanter of firewhiskey from the small, round walnut table. He unstoppered the bottle, and with a wave of his wand refilled the glass, topping up Ron's as well and then leaning back in his chair.

"Not getting cold feet, Harry?" Ron asked, correctly interpreting Harry's demeanour.

"It used to be a lot bloody easier before you – how did Gin put it? – expanded your emotional range beyond that of a teaspoon."

Ron grinned. "She does have a way with words."

"I was reminiscing about Hogwarts," Harry hedged. "About the last House Cup."

Ron snorted. "Bloody Miss Chang. We almost missed the Cup due to her outflying you that day."

Cho Chang… a memory of his old schoolyard crush entered his mind unbidden. She was easily the loveliest witch he had ever beheld, with her dark, beautiful eyes and long, shining ebony hair. He still remembered watching her master the patronus charm for the first time in their fifth-year defence against the dark arts society. When she had finally produced the graceful swan, her face had been illuminated with happiness in the shimmering silver light of the classroom, and in that moment, he had truly noted her for the first time. From that day forward, Harry had cherished a passion for the young Ravenclaw. Miss Chang, however, had eyes only for Mr Cedric Diggory, the handsome Hufflepuff Quidditch Captain. Diggory was a decent enough bloke, but he had turned Cho's head so that no one, especially not Harry Potter, could ever receive scarcely a second look.

Their relationship had petered out after graduation, and Miss Chang had since made her formal debut into wizarding society… but Harry had been consumed by his quest for the dark wizard Voldemort, and had never had the time to properly pursue and court Cho, or any other lady for that matter. Now, Miss Chang was unattached, returning to London after travels abroad for the season, and it would have been a straightforward matter to converse with her at one of the season's events, and discover if that spark was still present. _A simple matter, were I not engaged to be wed to another. _

"Cho was all right, and we made it in the end," Harry responded absently.

"It's not often I've witnessed any flier getting the better of you. That woman should have gone professional on that match alone!"

"I heard that the Harpies made her an offer, but she turned them down. Always one for the Tornadoes, Cho was." Harry sipped the burning drink pensively, passing over his familiarity with the erstwhile Ravenclaw seeker, and the two men fell into silence once more.

"How did our plan with Miss Granger go?" Harry queried.

"I spoke to her in gardens after the meal as you recommended. Merlin, what a beauty! I cannot believe I have not noticed her before."

"She evidently spends much of her time in the libraries, Ron," Harry said wryly, "and you, my friend avoid the place at all costs."

"She is quite intelligent, could recall more obscure points of law than I could ever hope to. And, to top it all off, she is a Cannons supporter," Ron declared. His ears had gone red, a telltale sign of his nerves. "Miss Granger is permitting me the honour of escorting her to the Deathday dance."

Harry raised his glass to his friend. "Excellent. I had the opportunity to have a brief discussion with her whilst you were speaking to the twins, and she was most charming. But I must ask, what of Lavender?"

"I've not had any response to my missive. I daresay she will not have any great care of the matter; it is not as though she was in love with me, for Merlin's sake."

Harry had some reservations on that front; having witnessed Miss Brown's single-minded determination to forge a marriage with his friend, and given the Weasley's tacit approval of the match, he doubted the matter would be put to rest so easily. Choosing his words carefully, he queried, "Have you spoken to your mother?"

Ron quirked an eyebrow. "Have you?"

"What do you mean?" Harry queried.

His face serious, Ron leaned forward. "Harry… Bloody hell, I cannot believe you are making me be the one to say this. I know you do not wish marry Ginny. I know Ginny does not want to marry you. I know I can be as thick as a concussed troll in most marriage matters, but I have observed how you have changed over these last months."

Harry merely gaped at Ron for a moment. _How on earth…_ It was easy to forget that Ron was no longer the same Cannons-mad, lazy jokester of their Hogwarts day. Oh, he still was a Cannons tragic, and still joked. But his talent for strategy combined with their intense Auror training had brought forth a talent for observation that had long lain deep. _A talent most inconvenient at times._

"Ginny has spoken to you?"

"She has not had to. Ginny is an open book. I have given you many opportunities to raise the matter, but you are too much of a bloody gentleman to use them."

"Ron…"

"Don't get all sentimental on me, Harry. Just… do something about this. Before you and Ginny both out-polite each other into an arrangement that you cannot escape."

Harry took another generous swallow of his firewhiskey. Deciding that discretion was the better part of valour, he said, "How is we are talking about your prospective engagement and we are suddenly discussing mine?"

Ron shifted in his chair. "…To answer your question, no. I have not discussed my intentions to court Miss Granger with her. I was hoping that she would take a liking to her over the evening, but…" he trailed off. Lady Weasley was a formidable matriarch indeed.

"Cheer up, old boy, with any luck she will be so distracted by the news about Ginny and I that she will barely notice your pursuit of Miss Granger."

"It is more so her reaction to my rejection of Lavender that concerns me. However, you are intending to speak to Ginny?"

"Yes. I shall speak to her before the Deathday dance."

"Good man."

The two men spent the remainder of the evening discussing their most recent case, a troubling spate of robberies targeting curio shops across the country. The thefts had focused upon seemingly innocuous charmed objects, each of which had been revealed to hold dark, concealed enchantments. The thieves – presumed to be a cartel, given their ability to dismantle multiple protective spells in an alarmingly short amount of time – had left no trace. It would have been a standard case for the Magical Law Enforcement branch, however the Unspeakables, after careful questioning of the shop owners, had requested that the Auror team investigate. The request, as most brought forth by the Unspeakables, was granted without question. Harry and Ron had volunteered, and had been flummoxed over their lack of progress over several weeks of investigation. As it usually was, focusing upon work – upon the quest – was soothing to Harry's disquiet. He held little hope of breaking his engagement to Ginny, but at least, at last, he did not feel quite so alone in the matter.

* * *

**Author's Notes**

**Banchory Bangers:** According to Quidditch Through The Ages, the Banchory Bangers were a part of the British and Irish Quidditch League that were kicked out in 1814 due to their rowdy behaviour.

**Emma Vanity: **Emma Vanity is listed as a Slytherin Quidditch Captain during the Marauder Era in the Harry Potter and The Deathly Hallows, Part 1 movie.

**Iolanthe Peverell:** Iolanthe Peverell is listed on Pottermore as having married Hardwin Potter, providing Harry's link to Ignotus Peverell. There is no reference to any family heraldry that I could find, and the lion reference was just connected to the Peverells for the purposes of this story.


	7. Icy Halls and Fiery Encounters

**Chapter 7: Icy Halls and Fiery Encounters**

_**Blaise Zabini's Apartment, December 1813**_

"Oh, Merlin, don't stop, Blaise!" Ginny cried. She lay upon her paramour's four postered bed, clad only in her thin cotton chemise. Her stays, petticoats and undergarments were discarded, her dress crumpled upon the floor. Blaise's head was dipped down between her parted thighs, her lover seducing her with a startlingly intimate kiss. Waves of pleasure rolled over her as she found her completion from his touch and his skilled tongue's attentions.

Her beloved – how strange that she had come to think of him in such a way, in such a short amount of time – had invited her to his Mayfair apartment prior to the Deathday Soiree, to discuss their next moves to finalise her engagement to Harry. No sooner than she had alighted from the fireplace, and they had fallen into passionate embrace. No words were spoken. Dimly, distantly in her mind Ginny was curious as to what Blaise's solicitor could have recommended, but those questions faded in desperate desire for his touch.

In the aftermath of her bliss, a wicked idea came to her. With a rather satisfied smirk, Blaise moved to lay at her side. Blaise had gently but firmly refused her more amorous advances upon his Cyprian sceptre at each of their previous rendezvous, claiming that her touch would undo him and lead them both into a potentially risky situation prematurely. Now as he looked at her, she flushed with passion, she pounced upon him, pushing him over onto his back. He quirked an eyebrow, clearly curious as to her intentions. Seating herself over his thighs, she leaned forward and kissed him thoroughly, tasting her essence upon his lips. It felt decadently wicked.

She pulled back and assumed a sultry expression. "Mr Zabini," she said, her tone low and husky, "that is two times you have pressed me. Satisfy my curiosity, love?"

His dark eyes softened. "What did you say?"

"I wish to see you… all of you." In spite of her boldness, her cheeks flushed.

"You know to what I am referring, Ginevra." His eyes held hers, his expression serious. "Are you in love with me?"

Ginny laughed in disbelief. "Merlin, Blaise, have you not guessed? My heart belongs to you, my devilish wizard. You, and you alone." She leaned down, her lips almost touching the shell of his ear, and whispered five words. "I love you, Blaise Zabini."

Before the fear blooming in her heart that he would not reciprocate could stifle her courage, she abruptly ended the conversation by kissing him deeply. And thought of the ticking clock and the great hall at Hogwarts drifted further still from her mind…

* * *

_**Hogwarts, Great Hall**_

The Great Hall at the venerable Hogwarts castle had been transformed into a thing of mysterious beauty. As Hermione entered the hall with Mr Weasley and Mr Potter, her eyes widened at the spectacle before her. Not even in Beauxbaton's most lavish balls had she beheld something of such ethereal and eerie splendour.

The floating candles above had been transfigured into luminous crystal, casting a soft white glow over the room. Shimmering motes drifted down over the guests, an almost intangible snow that felt faintly, incongruously warm to the touch. _Of course! _Hermione thought. With the guests of honour at the dance, the flesh-and-blood attendees would need to be warmed against the chill emanating from their ghostly persons. The walls appeared to have melted away before swirling, glittering mists, with strange vistas – old tombs with carved stone angelic beings standing guard here, tempestuous ocean waves there – faintly visible through the mist.

But it was the guests themselves that were the most astonishing. The _crème de la crème_ of wizarding society was of course present, immaculately attired in the most _très chic_ of modern fashions, but it was the ghostly guests who caught her attentions. Hundreds of pale, barely opaque spirits of the deceased hovered in the air, speaking cordially to the living, dancing, and in more than one ghost's eyes, wistfully eyeing off the banquet tables.

"I am not sure what has delayed Ginny," she said for what surely must have been the fiftieth time.

"It is not of the moment, Miss Granger," Mr Weasley assured her. "My sister did indicate that she was somewhat reluctant to attend this evening's festivities –" he broke off, with a sidelong look at Mr Potter. Silent communication seemed to pass between the two men.

Hermione was intrigued. Clearly, something was afoot. Indeed, Ginny _had_ looked decidedly reluctant to attend the festivities when speaking to Hermione earlier in the day.

Mr Weasley looked rather dashing this evening, attired in a wine-coloured silk cravat, cream-coloured, single-breasted waistcoat, and a deep maroon tail coat adorned with golden buttons. His colours were a homage to his former Hogwarts house. The dark colours highlighted his eyes spectacularly, their deep blue drawing her gaze to his face.

She herself had uncharacteristically indulged in spending some galleons and purchased a new dress for the dance during an afternoon excursion to Diagon Alley. Normally rather pragmatic in matters of fashion – to the endless despair of her former mentors in feminine wiles and deportment – she had at last found a desire in herself to dress to impress on this occasion.

She and Ginny had arranged for tea with an old Beauxbatons school friend, Gabrielle Delacour, meeting at Madam Malkin's boutique in Diagon Alley. Gabrielle had been in Ginny's year, and had travelled from the continent to begin the Grand Tour with her new husband, a French wizarding merchant by the name of Vincent Duc de Trefle-Picques. Unlike her elder sister, Fleur – who had been rather conceited in their school years – Gabrielle's beautiful appearance was augmented by her charming and good nature.

The dress had called to her. Made of pale rose-coloured silk, it appeared almost liquid in the crystalline candlelight of the Great Hall. It hugged her figure, draping softly over her bust, waist, and hips, falling to a silken shimmer below her ankles. Matching silken heels, adorned with pearl fastenings, were upon her feet. The pearl theme continued through her jewellery, with shimmering white pearls in her earlobes. Ginny and Gabrielle had enthusiastically encouraged her to purchase the dress and accoutrements, which were altered on the spot by the talented modiste's wandwork. The ladies had then bid one another _adieu_ to prepare for the evening at Hogwarts.

Whilst she prepared for the soiree, she paid more attention to her person, adding a touch of darkened rose tint to her lips, painting her eyes with subtly shimmering earth shades, and dusting her lashes with kohl. For the finishing touch, she had used a deftly applied potion to tame her wildly bushy hair into elegantly flowing waves. She lightly secured her hair with a bandeau of matching rose silk and pearls.

It had certainly been worth the expense to see Mr Weasley's reaction. Blatant appreciation was written clearly upon his face, his eyes dark with an innately masculine awareness as he beheld her. She flushed prettily as he led her to join the dance.

They took their assigned places and moved smoothly, almost effortlessly in synchronicity with one another. The quadrille moved them from partner to partner, Hermione recognising several colleagues from the Council offices with a friendly smile, but always returned her to Mr Weasley. As the quadrille drew to a close, the musicians struck up the beat of the Viennese waltz. The orderly group formation fell away as couples paired off to partake in a dance that was no doubt scandalising muggle London still.

Mr Weasley's hand rested upon her waist, his other holding hers. She let herself relax into the moment. Hermione laughed softly as she danced in Mr Weasley's arms. The ballroom seemed to sparkle more brightly, the music more inviting, the other guests a blur of colour and movement.

"Are you enjoying your evening, sir?" She queried as they moved with the music.

"The company is exquisite, Miss Granger," he replied with a smile. "Indeed, I am."

"As am I sir, though I must confess that I would like to have a momentary break from the dance… after this song. Perhaps we could partake of some refreshment?"

Ron recalled his brother William's words, having floo-called his eldest brother – and arguably the most suave of the Weasleys - for his advice in matters of courting his lady. After hearing Ron's descriptions, he considered carefully before proffering his recommendations. _'She sounds quite the fiery bluestocking, little brother_', William had said. _'This doesn't seem a wench who would relish false flattery. Debate with her, engage her in matters that stoke her passions, and above all _listen_ to her.'_ He decided to test the advice.

"Of course. I would relish the opportunity to hear some more of your thoughts on the recent conviction of Mr Crispin Cronk."

"Mr Cronk's imprisonment is an outrage," she replied, bristling, though her feet continued moving nimbly, "whilst I find his crime deplorable, I cannot agree with the sentence conferred."

Clearly, this was an issue that would not wait until the dance was over, Ron thought with an internal grin. "I agree with you in part, as I believe a warning would have sufficed. However, there are dark wizards who truly deserve no quarter, my lady, and regrettably, Azkaban is the only avenue currently available for detention of such brigands."

"I have read that Lord Weasley supported Minister Diggory's efforts to close the prison, sir. Do you not agree with your father in this matter?"

Ron found himself enjoying her feisty, challenging responses. "I do agree with his views, and I believe that Minister Diggory would have been a fitting minister to undertake such a task. However, in the current political climate, dismantling would not be prudent. That does not excuse imprisoning lesser offenders such as Mr Cronk, however."

"It is not only the excessiveness of the punishment, sir. Furthermore, I find the _principle_ behind his imprisonment incorrect. Whilst he did risk violating the statute of secrecy, the greater crime was imprisoning an intelligent magical being – a sphinx! – on his private property and against its will."

"There are many such troubling circumstances at this time, and I believe Minister Stump will be forming a division within the Ministry to protect the rights of non-human magical beings. Have you considered transferring employment within the magical law division?"

"I have considered it sir, and I shall apply once my internship with Mr Diggory is completed. In the interim, however, I share your passion – helping those who cannot help themselves to achieve justice."

"A task you fulfil most admirably, I would hazard a guess."

"You flatter me, sir," Hermione replied. "I would prefer to hear more of your investigations. Particularly yours and Mr Potter's investigation and apprehension of the dark wizard Voldemort."

Ron gave her an appraising smile. Few people so boldly stated the dark wizard's name. His lovely witch spoke the forbidden name clearly, not boastfully, reminding him of Professor Dumbledore's oft-repeated pronouncement that a fear of a name only increased fear of the thing itself, which spoke volumes of her bravery. _Had she attended these halls, _he thought, _she surely would have been a Gryffindor. _

"That is a long tale for another evening, Miss Granger, and is truthfully more Harry's achievement than mine. Would you like to take a moment?"

The music wound down, and he led her to one of the many misty, partially secluded bowers about the main ballroom, magically created for the guest's convenience. She sat on a cushioned chaise, and Mr Weasley sat beside her. Away from the guests, their lively conversation quietened, Hermione feeling uncharacteristically shy after her rather fiery pronouncements during their dance. The pearlescent mists gave a rather soft glow to the the bower.

Miss Granger looked entirely too entrancing for his sanity at that moment. She appeared to be some fey creature just beyond his reach, as beautiful as a Grecian mermaid, a siren in her silk and pearls. He wanted to run his hands through those long, brown curls, as he ravished her soft, full mouth, pressing kisses against her long, delicate neck, removing that scrap of silk and baring her naked breasts to him for the first time…_ Bloody hell, Weasley, keep yourself in check. _He thanked Merlin that he was wearing looser fitting trousers rather than the tighter, more fashionable breeches.

"Miss Granger, you are… remarkable." Mr Weasley's ears began to turn red. _Not now!_ "I must confess, I have never before felt the way I feel for you."

Darkened honey eyes widened at his pronouncement. "Oh, Mr Weasley…" She reached impulsively for his hand, momentarily lost for words.

He slowly lifted her hand to his lips and pressed a soft, tentative kiss upon her bare wrist, feeling her heart thrum beneath.

With her other hand, she traced his jawline with trembling fingers. Her boldness inflamed him, and he leaned forward and captured her lips with his. Clearly, his beautiful witch had little experience of kissing, but the taste of her was intoxicating, her lips meeting his with growing confidence. A moan escaped her as she softened beneath him, and he thought he would come there and then. He thrust his tongue slowly and deeply into the sweet warmth of her mouth, and she shivered with desire.

Hermione surrendered to the deeply sensual moment. His cologne, a subtle, masculine scent of freshly cut spring grass and leather, filled her senses. She returned his thrusts, her tongue brushing against his, and felt wickedly feminine and powerful as he growled in response.

Time seemed to pass more slowly as she learned him. The fire and passion he had thought dwelled beneath the polite, feminine surface was evident now, with breathy moans peppering her kisses. He felt himself slipping away from the crowded Great Hall, so close by, as he claimed her mouth with his.

The soft sounds of the musicians ceased as yet another dance ended with a round of applause. The sound brought made Hermione suddenly mindful of_ where_ they were, and she gently broke away from him. "We mustn't do this here," she said, a little surprised at how breathless she sounded.

He reluctantly released her and drew back with one last quick kiss. The timing was fortuitous indeed, as they were unexpectedly interrupted.

"Ron, there you are!" Harry called, rounding a corner into the alcove. "Miss Granger, my apologies, however may I speak to Ron for a moment?"

The two men drew to the side and exchanged several quick words. Ron looked quite angry – not with Mr Potter, but at his words.

He returned and begged her leave momentarily, and she acquiesced graciously, her head still spinning with his kiss. As he left her to Mr Potter's entertainment, she giggled. _Taking liberties in dark corners with a gentleman at a society event, what would Madame Maxine think?_ "So, Mr Potter, are you having a pleasant evening?"

* * *

Lavender emerged from an alcove. "Ron!" she called out to him. Ron stopped dead still, and flushed. He turned to his erstwhile pursuer. "Miss Brown?" he responded more politely than he felt. "Harry advised that you have been seeking me."

"Miss Brown?" she looked at him with those large blue eyes, faintly red rimmed. There was genuine sadness in those eyes, and he felt guilt tighten his chest. "Don't you dare 'Miss Brown' me! How can you even look upon me after sending such an appalling letter? Do I truly mean nothing to you?"

"Lavender," Ron began, his tone kindly. "I care for you, and I always will. However, I see you as a friend."

"We were practically betrothed! Why, your mother and I had begun discussing –"

_Bloody hell, Mother_, Ron thought. "My mother does not speak for me. I am truly sorry if she misled you."

"Don't think to dismiss me so quickly," she replied, her body practically vibrating with tension. "We would make a perfect marriage."

"You deserve to marry a wizard who will appreciate your charms and honour you as you deserve."

"And you have not?" she returned, with a meaningful look. Ron had regretted many of his romantic adventures, though few as much as he did the ill-fated moment of weakness with Lavender.

"I apologise for any misapprehensions that have arisen, Miss Brown. I cannot be more candid, my lady."

"Your heart lies with another, then?" she spat.

He did not acknowledge her accusation. "Lavender, I must go." _Hermione will be wondering where I am_, Ron thought, recalling her kiss-swollen lips with an internal smirk of satisfaction.

She didn't reply, though she closed her eyes. A single tear rolled down her pale cheek.

"Lavender, I…"

Before he realised her intentions, she drew her hand back and slapped him full across the face, the harsh crack echoing. Turning on her heel, she fled into the startled guests.

* * *

"Mr Potter?" a soft, lilting Scottish-accented voice enquired.

Harry turned and beheld Cho Chang, standing before him. Momentarily, he found himself as dumbfounded as when he had regrettably asked her to accompany him to the Winter Ball back in fourth year. That memory had a most inconvenient way of entering his mind at times.

She was alone – well, alone of company of the living variety, as the sombre Grey Lady of Ravenclaw stood at her side, conversing with the ebony-haired witch. With a nod of farewell, the Grey Lady drifted away, joining a conversation between the Fat Friar and another ghost that Harry did not recognise.

"Mr Potter?" she queried again, a slight smile playing about her mouth. Harry quickly returned to his senses.

"Miss Chang, it is a pleasure to see you again!"

"It has been far too long, Mr Potter, since I have seen you at the stadium. No time for quidditch these days, sir? "

"Indeed, I regret that I've not been by recently. It's been a splendid season for the Tornadoes."

She giggled. "Not so much for the poor Cannons, I fear. How has Mr Weasley responded to their performance?"

"Well, you Ron know, he has - " Harry tore his eyes from Miss Chang's, which were sparkling with merriment. "Oh, pardon my manners, please allow me to introduce Miss Hermione Granger. Miss Granger, this is Miss Cho Chang, a fellow student who attended Hogwarts."

After the introductions were properly made, Harry enquired if Miss Granger would mind if he and Cho danced a round of the quadrille. Miss Granger, ever polite, responded, "Oh, please, by all means!"

Harry took Cho's hand and led her to the dance. He knew it was rather scandalous to be so close to a lady other than his fiancé, but Ginny was the furthest thing from his mind at that moment as he took his dance partner in his arms. All he could focus upon was the lovely, lively woman who twirled about him, her silver and ivory skirts reminding him of her dress robes from the Yule Ball so long ago.

* * *

Hermione had been quietly observing the proceedings with amusement, and alarm. She had certainly fathomed that Ginny and Mr Potter were, well, rather unenthused about their engagement, but this was another matter entirely. Mr Potter was clearly besotted with this Miss Chang!

She bade Mr Potter farewell, as he accompanied Miss Chang for a round of the quadrille. She stood watching the party, the revellers seeming almost insubstantial in the ghostly mist, and wondered where Mr Weasley – _Ron_, she reminded herself with a blush – could have been called to so urgently, feeling vaguely piqued about being abandoned so quickly after their interlude.

A gentleman in a dark green and silver cravat and great coat, almost as pale as the ghosts themselves, joined her at the table. He held two glasses of punch, and offered one to her with a smile. It was a smile that promised a witch wicked delights. Hermione found herself simultaneously alarmed and intrigued by it.

"Would you like a refreshment, _mademoiselle?_" he enquired, his French pronunciation seamless.

"Yes, thank you sir," she took the goblet from him with a smile.

"Would you care to join the dance, my lady?"

"I thank you, sir, however, I am awaiting the return of a friend. Please do not hesitate to enjoy the dance on my account."

"The company here is far more intriguing, Miss -?"

"Hermione Granger, sir, and might I enquire whom you are?"

"Draco Malfoy, Miss Granger. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance." The words were perfectly polite, but there was an subtle undercurrent to them that made Hermione's heart beat faster.

The next twenty minutes passed in surprisingly congenial conversation regarding the topics of the day: the forthcoming magical creature protection legislation, the Herbology trading opportunities emerging from the Polynesian island archipelagos, and the latest political news from the Wizarding Council. Mr Malfoy was witty and urbane, however there was some dark amusement lurking below the surface of his polished demeanour that Hermione could not quite pin down the source of it. _Perhaps it is merely my imagination._

The punch was long since imbibed, when Mr Malfoy withdrew a golden pocket watch from his coat. "I must beg your apologies, Miss Granger, however I am being called away to a prior engagement. However, I would like to call upon you in the near future." His eyes were too direct, with that odd, clear shade of grey rather disconcerting.

"I fear that would be inappropriate, sir – you see, my friend…" she paused,

"Is there perhaps an… understanding between yourselves?"

"No, ours is a relatively new acquaintance." _Acquaintance? _She thought to herself. Whilst the description was technically true, she felt that the relationship between herself and Mr Weasley could perhaps blossom into something far more serious… if she was willing to leap in.

"As is ours, for the moment. Then, perhaps you will allow me the honour of calling upon you? I assure you, without obligation. I would enjoy the opportunity to explore your company more thoroughly."

Hermione paused. Aside from that rather silly flash of nerves, she _had_ enjoyed her conversation with Mr Malfoy, who seemed rather amiable, and – well – it was not as though he was proposing an intimate meeting, was he? There was no reason that she could not perhaps forge a friendship with Mr Malfoy.

"I must leave you, Miss Granger, for I am afraid an engagement calls me away from your company," he pressed her. "Shall you be attending the Quidditch match next weekend?"

"Yes, I shall." _Urgent engagements seem to be a reoccurring theme of the evening_, she thought ruefully.

"Then I shall see you there."

* * *

_So, that was she, _Draco mused as he left Miss Granger's side. In contrast to Miss Brown's unflattering description, Hermione Granger presented a most attractive picture, with her blush-rose gown framing delicate curves. _Slytherin save me from the schemes of women, _he throught wryly. The witch possessed impeccable manners, a subtle, feminine charm, and an exceedingly intelligent wit. He could certainly see why Miss Brown was jealous of the muggleborn, though why the chit gave a damn for Weasley's affections, Draco did not care.

Lavender bustled eagerly over to him, and drew him to a misty corner, where the edge of the Great Hall gave way to the image of a mist-filled graveyard. _How appropriately morbid_.

"Good evening, sir," Miss Brown began. "I see you received my message. Have you any updates on our… endeavour?"

Draco favoured her with a faintly contemptuous glance. "I have spoken with Miss Granger, yes."

"She should be driven from these halls," Lavender haughtily replied.

"Miss Brown, you were perhaps sorted into the wrong house during our first year," he drily commented.

Lavender flushed with pleasure, evidently taking the comment as a complement.

Lavender had, regrettably, not changed from the rather crass Gryffindor that he had dismissed in his Hogwarts days. He recalled her receiving a howler after an ill-fated attempt to sneak into the Ravenclaw boy's dormitories, but other than a brief tumble in sixth year he had scarcely noted the wench. Indeed, were it not for the pleasant prospect of humiliating Weasley he would have dismissed her foolish request out of hand.

Meeting Miss Granger had provided him with some unexpected insight into the blonde wench's jealousy. While he had been in it for the pleasure of humiliating his old enemy, now a new incentive had been introduced. He intended to seduce the mudblood maiden. It had been long since he had taken a lover, following the end of his and Pansy's discreet affair upon her marriage to Theo. Perhaps a tumble with the Beauxbaton's beauty was just the tonic he needed.

"Sir, do you have any news regarding the progress of our arrangement?" Lavender pressed again, bringing his attention back to the clouded Great Hall.

He met her blue gaze and cocked an eyebrow. "I do not wish to discuss this matter at this time," he responded drily. "We shall reconvene in the future." He took his leave of her abruptly, not waiting for her rejoinder.

As he made his way to the apparation point for his return to the manor, he reflected once more on his all-too-brief meeting with Miss Brown's bane. _Not what I had expected from a creature of such lowly birth,_ he mused, _not what I had expected at all._

* * *

Mr Potter and Miss Cho were continuing their dance, the quadrille giving way to a lively _la boulangere_, with the dancers forming a large circle.

Mr Weasley returned to find his lovely seated pensively beside the dancers, his face troubled. "Miss Granger, I must beg your forgiveness," he greeted her. "I was waylaid by a former acquaintance, and could not extricate myself."

"I see," Hermione replied, curious as to the return to such formal address. He appeared rather abstracted. Something was troubling him. "Is everything all right, my lord?"

He looked at her, and shook his head. "And now I must prevail upon you once more… I've been summoned to the Burrow on a matter of some emergency."

Hermione hid her disappointment. The first part of the evening had gone so beautifully! It was a shame to cut it short, and she could see her regret mirrored in his eyes.

He gave her a smile. "However… I believe we have time for one last dance, if you can forgive me." She smiled, proffered her hand, and he led her to the circle of dancers once more.

* * *

_**Burrow Manor, Ottery St Catchpole**_

Burrow Manor was a scene of chaos on a scale that Ron had never beheld before. As he had left Lavender, his face stinging from her rebuke, upon his return to Miss Granger, his faithful owl companion, Pig, had materialised in the Great Hall bearing a missive from his father. On top of Lavender's intrusion, the missive advised that there had been some scandal – the details of which had not been provided in the letter – and that his mother was threatening to send a howler to the Great Hall if Ron did not return him at once. As he stepped out of the floo, quite incensed at his mother's cavalier attitude, he was greeted by Ginny's furious shout.

"My life is not yours to play with, mother! How dare you embarrass me in such a manner!"

His father's face was uncharacteristically stern. "Ginevra, how could you? You are a woman engaged, not…" he broke off, unable to continue, his face crumbling.

Ron was bewildered, his anger momentarily stymied by the spectacle before him. "What has happened?" he demanded.

Three sets of angry eyes turned to stare at him, his mother's apoplectic rage evident. "What happened, Ronald Weasley, is that while you were supposedly to be minding your sister, she was dishonouring herself and this family!"

"What happened was that mother and Father invaded my privacy!" Ginny's colour was high. "I am twenty years of age, mother, Father. I am a witch grown, and you will not treat me in this manner!"

Lady Weasley barked a laugh. "A witch grown? A grown woman would not ruin a good match to become a rake's - light-skirted - _mistress_!" She shrieked.

She moved so swiftly that there was no time for Lady Weasley to avoid the harsh slap of Ginny's hand meeting her mother's face. Ginny then turned and apparated to her quarters without another word. _Shouldn't have been too surprised that something like this would happen, really. _He felt a pang of sympathy for his sister.

"And _you!" _Lady Weasley spun to face Ron, not pausing after Ginny's assault on her person. "How could you let this happen?"

Ron's own temper began to rise as his shock faded. _I don't even bloody well know what "this" is! _"Do not put whatever has happened here upon me, mother! You knew Ginny did not wish to marry Harry, and still you persisted with this farce!"

Ron's father blanched at the uncharacteristic display of temper from his erstwhile rather even-tempered youngest son. "Molly, now, dear…"

"Mother, father, we will discuss this when you are both prepared to have a _civil_ discussion," Ron continued before his mother could continue her tirade, his ears rather red. "I shall go and check on Ginny."

He apparated to her door, and knocked. "Gin?"

There was silence.

"Gin, it's just me. May I come in?"

The quiet was rather unlike his sister, who had inherited their mother's infamous Prewett temper in spades. There should have been shouting, perhaps the sound of a vase shattering, not silence. He cast a quick _alohomora_ charm on the door.

And was greeted by an empty room.

* * *

**Author's Notes**

**Crispin Cronk: **According to the Harry Potter wiki, Crispin Cronk was a wizard who was sent to Azkaban for breaching the statute on secrecy by attempting to hide a sphinx at his home.

**Cyprian sceptre: **A mid-1800s slang term for penis.

**Gabrielle's Husband:** Vincent Duc de Trefle-Picques is a canon French wizard and Beauxbatons student, who attended in 1794.

**La Boulangere:** Literally, "a circle", referring to a simple dance from country dances in the Regency Era.


	8. Musings

**Chapter 8: Musings**

**_Granger Residence, Surrey_**

**_December 1813_**

All in all, the Deathday Soiree had been, up until its abrupt ending, a rather splendid occasion, Hermione believed.

She found herself having a quiet weekday evening at her family's home, having returned to her usual employment at the Wizarding Council – a brief moment of work and sanity amidst the riotous festivities of the Season. She had hoped that she would have an opportunity to speak to Mr Weasley once more, however a discreet enquiry at the auror's offices yielded that he and Auror Potter had been summoned to undertake an investigation in the city, and would not be returning to headquarters until the following week.

She was eagerly awaiting the weekend's society Quidditch match. _Not_ that she was particularly inclined towards the sport. But her Mr Weasley… Ron, she reminded herself with a blush… he would be there, and deepening attraction was drawing her ever closer to the tall, auburn-haired wizard with the ready smile and by turns good humoured and serious blue eyes. She found herself curiously detached from her usual internal cautions and good sense in matters of the heart. His declaration of his feeling for her – and his kiss! - was surely a sign that he wished to pursue a more serious relationship with her?

Then there was the pale Mr Malfoy, with his sardonic smile and veiled grey eyes. He had certainly piqued her interest, with his clever remarks and interest in her conversation. Whilst she had not felt the electrical spark of attraction that had illuminated her meetings with Mr Weasley, Mr Malfoy was charming, and she looked forward to the opportunity to extend her acquaintance with the gentleman. She would clarify the nature of such an acquaintance – a platonic one, indeed – upon their next would clarify the nature of such an acquaintance – a platonic one, indeed – upon their next meeting.

Something about the name Malfoy rang a bell in her mind, though, after he had departed. It was an old wizarding family, one with a rather dark reputation. As to the gentleman himself... while he some notoriety as a playboy, at least according to her colleagues at the Council, she generally paid no mind to such gossip. She would need to ask Ginny for her thoughts when they next spoke, though in general she preferred to make up her own mind when assessing character. Indeed, having received the occasional harsh remark due to her own muggle heritage, she was well aware of the impact that opinions formed in ignorance could cause.

Her thoughts drifted back to Mr Weasley. After their tryst in the alcove, he had departed rather suddenly. Almost immediately he had been called away, not once, but twice, leaving her in Mr Potter's pleasant but distracted company. Perhaps he had been disconcerted by her enthusiasm? Or her forthright remarks? Doubt crept in to her heart, with memories of her earlier days at Beauxbaton's entering her thoughts.

A rather bookish and forthright student, her first year had certainly had some challenging moments. Her initial enchantment with the magical world had been diminished by Fleur and her coterie consistently airily mocking her bushy hair, her overlarge teeth (thank Merlin for shrinking spells!), and her love of the library tower. Second year had brought with it a new sense of confidence and resolve to succeed in this new world, and more importantly Ginny's friendship. Suddenly it was easier to laugh away and ignore the cruel taunts and the caustic "_charmant"_ remarks. Still, the spectre of those days crept, uninvited, into her heart from time to time.

_What am I to do? _She was rather inexperienced in matters of the heart, she reflected. The sum and total of her romantic experiences were a rather dismal affair.

The first was from her school days. In her fifth year, in a fit of daring she had participated in one of the illicit kissing games that the older students had arranged in a deserted tower. She had been paired with Louis Dupré, a dark-haired sixth year boy who was clearly as inexperienced as she. Feeling uncharacteristically scandalous in the dark closet, her anticipation of a sensual kiss such as she had read of in Ovid's _Amores _reeling in her head_, _Master Dupré had subverted those expectations utterly when he frowned, leaned forward and planted a rapid, chaste kiss upon her waiting lips, then leaped from the closet with alacrity and an air of relief. He had subsequently avoided eye contact with her for the remainder of the year in a fit of embarrassment over his lack of panache. Similar endeavours had regrettably met similar conclusions.

The second was a disastrous serious of Muggle introductions arranged by her parents over the recent year. A shameless chauvinist, a boorish lout, and an overly amorous merchant whose eyes had remained firmly fixed upon her bust. The last had been the final straw, and Hermione had gently but firmly put her foot down to avoid any further matchmaking endeavours from the pair of them.

_Enough of this reverie! _It was not characteristic of her to winnow away an evening in such idle rumination. Seated at her writing desk, she waved her wand and conjured a quill and parchment. The best way to sort out her feelings for Mr Weasley was to make a comprehensive list of his positive and negative attributes, and to make an objective assessment.

_Unexpected absence aside, he has been quite chivalrous… he is sincere in his interest in our conversation… and he _is _a handsome gentleman…_

_Oh, dear_. So much for an objective list, she feared. She folded the scrap of parchment and placed it in the desk drawer, smiling ruefully.

She stood, walked over to her bed, and laid back upon the ivory sheets, waving her wand to stoke the magical, bluebell coloured fire – specially plumbed into her parent's modest Muggle residence – closed her eyes, and giggled at the absurdity of it all. _Hermione Granger, the dux of the seventh year, attracting the interest of two handsome wizards, who would have ever thought it?_

A rush of green fire announced an unexpected visitor travelling through the floo. There was only one person who had been permitted the ability to floo into her home unannounced. _Ginny?_ Hermione felt a wave of relief, coupled with unease. Her recent silence and absence from the Deathday Soiree had left her most concerned for her friend's well-being. Hastily, she flicked her wand with a wordless _accio_ charm, her woollen robe alighting from her chifforobe and wrapping itself about her.

"Good Merlin, Ginny! What has happened?"

She certainly did not look ill. In fact, Ginny was practically glowing, a look of bursting excitement dancing in her eyes. The flames rose once more, and an unknown, handsome wizard with dark, almost ebon eyes alighted from the flames. He was rather fashionably attired, he in a black great coat, trimmed with silver, with a crisp, ruffled shirt and dark trousers. And a gold and silver ring glinting from his left hand…

"Hermione, my dear friend, it is my pleasure to introduce my husband, Mr Blaise Zabini."

* * *

**_Potter Estate, Godric's Hollow_**

"You are off the hook, mate, and not a bit of harm done!" Ron attempted to inject a bravado that he did not feel into his voice as he spoke to Harry. He had apparated over to the Potter Estate, having left his mother in a state of near-hysteria following Ginny's disappearance. She had left a short, terse note, stating that she was departing to determine her own destiny. His parents had attempted to use the remnant Trace magic that had led them Blaise Zabini's apartment, where they had discovered his sister in _flagrante delicto_ with his and Harry's former rival on the Quidditch pitch.

However, upon formally declaring her independence of her childhood home, the subtle currents of the Trace had dissipated. A rather terse owl to Zabini's mother yielded nothing, except for a response stating that her noble son would never take up with a blood traitor Weasley.

After several tense days of searching, in the midst of the drama of it all, his father had insisted that they apprise the Potters of the development, to Lady Weasley's strenuous objections. After yet another owl message – Errol would certainly need a rest after the last few days - Lily Potter had flooed in and calmly broken the engagement on the spot, with a deft apology, before her goggling husband could speak a word. She then wished them well in locating their daughter and apparated herself and Lord Potter away from Burrow Manor.

Ron finally declared that he had had it with the whole mess, that Ginny would return home when she was good and ready, and departed to Harry's quarters on the Potter estate as his father provided his wife with yet another calmative potion. There he had found Harry pensively nursing a firewhiskey.

"It's over, mate," Harry said morosely.

"I have heard. Mother is… well, I'm sure you can imagine. But I am sure that she will come around."

"And what of Ginny?"

"Gin… err, well, it appears that Gin has run away with Zabini." His sister had certainly made her wishes known. Zabini might have been a tosser, but aside from his perpetual scowls – honestly, the fellow could have rivalled Snape for sneers in their school days – he seemed a decent enough bloke, if a bit of an unknown quality. For a Slytherin. And Ginny… well, as a powerful witch, she could certainly handle herself. Between Bill's insistence on his siblings learning curse defence magic, the need to defend against the twins' love of pranks, and Ron sharing his auror training, her natural talent with a wand had shone true.

Still, he had discreetly sent her a patronus to check in on her, shortly after the discovery of her empty bedroom. She had replied with an uncharacteristically emotional and slightly cryptic message.

_"__Do not worry, brother. I am well. In fact, I am better than I have been in some time, now that I have discarded the shackles that were forced upon me. I will be in contact soon, but for now I am free, and I am safe."_

Harry said nothing, but stared broodingly into the flames.

"Bloody hell…" he took a seat in the easy-chair across from Harry, who with a wave of his wand wordlessly conjured a tumbler of liquor for Ron, who took it gratefully. "What a mess."

"Indeed."

"It should have been me." Harry spoke suddenly in the silent drawing room.

"What?" _Merlin, don't tell me he actually wanted to marry her! They have been moping around like two bloody lethifolds ever since it was announced!_

"It should have been me." Harry repeated. "Ginny has had to ruin herself, to flee with such a scoundrel, and to what purpose? To pay the price for my cowardice," he finished bitterly.

Ron shook his head in denial as Harry continued. "Mum… she came and spoke to me, after she spoke to your parents. Said that she had known I was unhappy with the engagement, and _apologised._ Can you believe it?"

"And Lord Potter?"

"He joked that I was swotty nancy who could not keep my fiancé." He shrugged. "He is merely more embarrassed than anything else, I believe." Harry's eyes were growing unfocused and reddened with the influence of the potent liquor.

Ron waved his wand, and the crystal tumbler drifted from Harry's hand to the shelf. "Dobby!" he called, summoning Harry's loyal house elf. The diminutive creature appeared with a loud pop.

"Rest for now, Harry. It will all be better in the morning, won't it?" He added persuasively. Harry continued to morosely stare into the flames. "Dobby, please take Harry to retire for the evening." Orb-like eyes round at the unusual spectacle of Harry behaving in such a despondent manner, Dobby cajoled Harry from the easy-chair. His drunken best friend turned to him and added one last statement.

"You should… you should speak to your Miss Granger. I fear this mess of a situation may have hampered your own courtship of the witch." Dobby ruefully shook his head at his master and apparated him from the room.

Confident that Harry would be well cared for, he made his way to the familiar guest quarters, disrobed and performed a quick cleansing charm. Pig had made his way to the Potter estate, and merrily hooted at the sight of his master. In spite of all the evening's chaos, when he finally had a moment to himself, it was Hermione's face that appeared in his mind's eye.

It had been several days since the disastrous finish to the deathday party, and in the chaos of it all, he had not apologised for leaving her there, alone, with only a rushed farewell. Harry – in spite of his sodden state – was right.

* * *

"By Circe's wand!" Hermione exclaimed. "Oh – Mr Zabini –" she stammered, remembering her manners. "It is a pleasure to meet you – perhaps you wish to take tea in the drawing room –"

Having hastily made herself decent at the appearance of the strange gentleman who Ginny had invited into her home, Hermione had greeted Mr Zabini courteously in spite of the late hour and highly unusual circumstances. What the devil had Ginny been thinking?

"Hermione," Ginny kindly began, "we shall not impose on you for long. I simply wished to introduce you and share our news."

Hermione nevertheless summoned a silver tray from the kitchen, containing a dark tea, heated to boiling in a trice, fragrant with orange and spices, with several small tea cakes from the larders, sprinkled with sugared, snowy white flutterby petals. The petals quivered, shaking off their sugary raiment. Two chairs popped into the room. Ginny took her seat, however her husband remained standing.

"Congratulations on your nuptials, sir and – err – Mrs Zabini," she added with a smile.

Some of Mr Zabini's reserve eased as his solemn mask softened a trifle around his eyes. "Miss Granger, my wife has spoken most warmly of your steadfast friendship. I look forward to more fully making your acquaintance in the future."

"We will be departing for our matrimonial celebration," Ginny added with a rather impish smile as she took a bite of the cake. "We shall remain in London for the Yule celebrations, however afterwards we shall be departing on our honeymoon."

"Indeed," Mr Zabini concurred, withdrawing a silver watch from his coat pocket. "I must beg your pardon for the intrusion – and my sudden departure – however there are items that I must attend to before we depart. My wife – shall I see you shortly?"

Ginny smiled, her eyes brazenly – possessively – sweeping over his body. "Of course, sir. I shall take tea and return to the apartment anon." Perfectly proper words, however there was an unmistakably provocative undertone to them.

Hermione's head was reeling as she poured two cups of the fragrant tea. The look of both desire and a deep and genuine affection on Ginny's face and that of her suitor was unmistakable. Small wonder it was that she had not wished to marry Lord Potter… she provided a suitably polite farewell to Mr Zabini, who returned to the flames with a whoosh. She cast a discreet _muffliato_ to prevent her mother and father from being roused.

She cut to the heart of the matter. "Ginny, you must tell me – what has happened?"

She did not leave Hermione in further suspense. "I have cherished a passion for Mr Zabini for these past twelve months, after a chance encounter during the previous Season. We had intended to begin formally courting when my engagement to Lord Potter was announced. He and I have plotted these last months to break the engagement. And on the night of the soiree…" she trailed off with a demure flush. _Ginny! Embarrassed! _Hermione hid her surprise, and merely nodded. "I had attended to his apartments, when my mother and father deduced my location, and forced me to return to Burrow Manor. I quit my familial home, and returned to Blaise's residence. We then travelled to Scotland, and were married over the anvil upon the Gretna Green."

Hermione clasped Ginny's hand as the puzzle pieces connected in her mind. "I now see what has left you so troubled these recent months. My dear friend, forgive me that I did not aid you."

Ginny shook her head in denial. "This was my burden to bear, as will be the battles to come. It shall take some time before I am reconciled to my family in truth. But I believe that love is worth any such hardship."

"What are you plans for the nonce?"

"After the Yule celebrations, we intend to tour the Americas, and visit Blaise's father in Argentina. He… well," she continued wryly, "the tale of his escape from the Widow Zabini is best saved for another day. We shall be formally debuting as husband and wife at the Quidditch match at Hogwarts this weekend, and shall celebrate with my family at Sunday dinner." Her face set angrily at those last words.

"Surely, they must understand! I cannot believe that Ron… that is to say, Mr Weasley, would stand in the way of your happiness!"

She sighed. "Except for Percy, all of my brothers are likely to accept the match, thank Merlin. It is my parents whom I am most concerned with." Her scowl melted away as a slow smirk spread across Ginny's face. "But, how very interesting. It appears that while I was attending to my own affairs, something has happened?"

"Perhaps. I…" she took a breath, unable to stop the smile that pulled at her lips. "I have developed an affection for your brother. I think… I hope he returns my feeling."

Ginny laughed merrily. good humour restored. "Of course he returns it, my _soeur_," she replied fondly. "Circe, I've never seen him so instantly smitten by a witch! Thank Merlin, perhaps in time we shall be sisters in truth."

"I scarcely know the wizard! But… I must confess, I am entranced by him. These weeks past have gone by in a daze. I find myself eagerly awaiting our next meeting. Such a response is simply not rational."

"Matters of the heart seldom are. And Ron…" she giggled. "I am accustomed to thinking of him as my foolish brother. However, he is a good man, and would make a fine husband for any woman."

"As you know, I have been rather circumspect regarding matters of marriage. I had thought not to choose… indeed, the notion of marrying at all had fallen away from my attention."

"And now?"

"Now I am certainly more intrigued by the possibility."

Ginny took her leave shortly thereafter, leaving Hermione to her thoughts once more.

Before she could return to her failed analysis, a small, fluffy owl that she recognised as Mr Weasley's appeared at her window. Without care as to the late hour, the tiny owl was hooting madly, looking inordinately pleased with itself for its successful delivery. "Good evening, Pigwidgeon," she smiled at the owl, who responded with a happy trill of a hoot. He zoomed over to her desk and deposited a scroll atop her papers, looking at her hopefully. She retrieved an owl treat from her desk drawer, which was seized by the small post owl. With a last alarmingly loud hoot of farewell, the fluffy bird alit into the night. Curious as to the delivery, she opened the scroll, and read the short note within.

_My dearest Miss Granger,_

_I must beg your apology for this weekend past. A matter of family emergency arose, which I shall explain anon at the Quidditch match, if you can forgive my boorish behaviour._

_I have a question for you, and a token of my esteem that I wish to gift you. You are in my thoughts until we meet again._

_Yours,_

_Ron_

She hugged the note to her chest, and at last retired for the evening, her doubts – for the moment – vanquished.

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

**Gretna Green:** Gretna Green was a village in Scotland that was extremely popular for elopements, with a loophole in Scottish law allowing for any two witnesses to marry a couple. Blacksmiths in particular became known as "anvil priests", performing thousands of weddings.

**Trace:** In canon, the Trace dissipates on a witch or wizard's 17th birthday. However, for the purposes of this story, I'm suggesting while not as effective a subtle Trace magic remains until they formally leave their childhood home.


End file.
